The narrow path
by olivegbg
Summary: We know how they died, but how did they live? A story of Wardens without a blight. Chapter 70: "You knew the moment I said it!"
1. The End part 1

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

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><p><strong>The End part 1<strong>

Riordan leaned closer to the fire cradling his glass in his hands, he found himself searching the flames as if looking for answers, there was none, had never been. At least he was wise enough to recognise that now. Bitterly he tossed back the remainder of his drink.

Getting up to pour himself another glass he noticed that beneath the bottle was a crudely carved phallus. Gently he traced the contours with an inward smile. This table had been in another room once and Duncan's jab in his ribs had almost caused him to cut himself to the bone. He remembered that after the questioning, Duncan had added the initials of the current Warden Commander below the masterpiece, as if making amends. That piece of information had been carefully scratched out.

Riordan glanced across the room; Duncan was still sitting on the edge of the threadbare couch where the new Grey Warden was lying. The young man had grown tall and strong, just as Riordan had predicted long ago. He knew why Duncan had made him a Warden, a much better reason than Riordan's own. Memories he had tried so hard to keep at bay crowded him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to collect himself. A Fereldan Warden at the joining today had asked him if he knew Duncan from the man's time in Orlais. 'Just briefly, there are a lot of Wardens in Orlais' he had answered automatically. The man had nodded and turned to watch the game of who would live and who would die. Riordan had noticed that unlike in Montsimmard, no bets were placed.

'Only briefly', that's what he had said with a shrug. He didn't even remember when he had become such a casual liar, perhaps he had always been, and a shrug was always expected of an Orlesian. He was always taken for an Orlesian these days, getting compliments for his nice grasp of Fereldan.

He turned to look at Duncan. The man was leaning over the new Warden who seemed to be stirring. Alistair's eyes fluttered open, caught Duncan's and blinked twice before he fell into exhausted sleep. He would still feel like crap in the morning, Riordan mused, but he recognised the relief you felt sliding into the Fade where the pain might not follow. Come to think of it, it seemed that he had spent an unreasonable part of his youth knocked out or injured in some way or other. Then again, if the Maker had given him a sturdy physique, a thick skull and a penchant for violence and strong liquor, wouldn't it have been a sin to waste such gifts?

Duncan gently drew the blanket over the young man's shoulders and rested his hand on his head as if in benediction before heading over to pour himself a glass. Riordan marvelled that, after all these years and joining rituals, Duncan still had so much heart and hopes for his recruits. He himself had not bothered to recruit in a long time and no one had dared to prompt him. He performed the joining when required but always avoided learning the names or anything about the recruits until the ritual was over.

Riordan stared back at the flames. "Every time I partake in a joining I keep remembering ours, the ones who died, the ones who lived."

"I think we all do. I also remember the disappointment on the Senior Warden's face when you pulled through."

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Riordan's mouth. "What did he used to call me again? 'The Malfaisant'?"

"I think it was 'Malcreant' actually."

"Yes I think you are right." Riordan nodded. "That has a familiar ring to it."

"But I must say, in my entire career, I have never seen anyone so sick from a joining."

Riordan made a face. "It was horrible. I truly thought I would die. There should be a warning on that cup. 'Never mix joining-juice with alcohol.'"

"There probably should. Have you kept your vow never to let someone join when drunk?"

Riordan nodded almost as if to himself, held up his glass and eyed the liquid inside it, turning it slowly. "I'm such a bloody hypocrite." Finishing the inspection of his glass, Riordan toasted the other Warden and drained it. "I think I hated you from that day."

Duncan turned his dark gaze to look him straight in the eye. "No you didn't, that came later."

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><p><strong>A note2:<strong> If you have been reading 'Glass Darkly' you may remember that I thought Riordan barged in and crowded my story, well he did! When i played the game the first time I was like 'finally a real warden -YES HELP ME'!' only to find myself wishing 'Die die die, it's obvious, and you're useless anyway!'. Then I wrote the story for FF and really had to listen to every conversation I found myself baffled by Riordan and the way his view of the Wardens seemed to clash violently with Alistair's. Suddenly a real live person, complete with a history came to life (had to kill him naturally, it was an in-game story after all...) Anyway, the idea of what life might have been like and the persons who became Wardens when there had not been a Blight in 400 years. Four hundred years! Thats like from now and almost to the medievals. A scam? Another day another dollar? It might have ended there had I not found a partner in crime -the Gaspode5. Together we have started compiling this story.I consider it a joint-venture. Many times when I've almost given up, it's bloody hard to write your own plot, I'm not exactly Hemingway, only to find Gaspode filling in the blanks. I dare you to guess which lines are mine... Enough said/written! Here is the first chapter, we decided to call it The End!

**Disclaimer:** No Bioware Character belong to me, unfortunately...


	2. The Bastard

**A Note**:  
>We have done our best to stick to the official Thedas time line but it is often vague and sometimes contradictory so we have in turn left it deliberately vague in our story. We have mostly kept to the canon with the exception of one event in the epilogue of 'The Calling that would have placed Duncan in Ferelden instead of back in Orlais. There will surely be spoilers for 'The Stolen Throne' and 'The Calling' as well as the game 'Dragon Age: Origins' and as far as we are concerned, in Antiva they speak a form of Italian.<p>

The Wardens are a rough lot; there will be bad language, violence and sexual situations.

**Disclaimer:** We do not own Duncan and Riordan, unfortunately...

_Hope you will enjoy /Olive & Gaspode5_

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><p><strong>The Bastard<strong>

Duncan had to duck to enter the dim dirty building that professed to be a Tavern just because someone had managed to spell it out on the sign above the door. Whatever he might wish, this was the right place. The slight tug in his chest he had felt out in the alley was stronger. Alive then, unfortunately.

The smell struck him first, comfortingly familiar and repulsive at the same time; the reek of stale ale, unwashed bodies and old cooking mingling with the acrid smoke from the fire. The earthen floor was covered in the decomposing remnants of rushes. In the dull, flickering light of scattered candles and the light from the fire he could pick out the huddled shapes of people very determinedly getting drunk. Apart from the occasional sniffle and cough the place was too quiet, waiting, having caught the scent of a stranger.

He searched the room in silence, careful not to expose his back. Eventually he spotted the man lying face down on the floor near the wall. Naturally, he should have checked there first, why hadn't he thought of that, Duncan thought bitterly while weaving his way through the maze of low benches. He settled with his back to the wall removing a spluttering candle that was obscuring his line of vision. There was no sign of immediate danger; still, the force of habit was too strong. Blood was caked on the neck of the unconscious man and Duncan reached down to examine it a bit closer. Nothing cracked, just a cut and a bump the size of an egg, skull too thick no doubt. There was an angry shout from the thin man behind the bar. "You take him with you when you leave if that's a friend of yours!"

"Not a friend, but I'll take him anyway." Duncan straightened slowly. The barkeeper gave him a closer look recognising the signs of a well-trained, well-armed warrior before shrugging. "Suit yourself." This was a place where no unnecessary questions were asked. Signaling for a tankard Duncan leaned back with a grimace. He threw one of his knives on the table to further discourage company before he prodded the body angrily with one foot; it rolled over without as much as a twitch, just his luck.

The barmaid who brought his beverage eyed him warily before speaking in hushed tones. "We tried to stop it but the Madam forbade it, please don't hurt me."

Duncan grunted and threw the girl some extra coins. In some mysterious way he could not grasp, the bastard never lacked for willing women but he took some satisfaction from the fact that this one seemed deceased. He sat brooding while finishing his tankard. Once, not so long ago these surroundings would have been both home and hunting ground. The ale wasn't bad though, the kind of stuff you could eat with a fork. Probably lifted off some more high-end establishment. He took some time to enjoy it and muse on his recent return to Montsimmard. Carefully he sifted through his memories of his fellow junior Wardens.

He remembered the first weeks after the Joining had been spent in a miserable state of adjustment to the changes within their bodies as well as their new situation. Tempers had been running high and low and at night there were the dreams. Duncan had spent most of it trying to find a way out; he suspected he had not been the only one. Unfortunately Commander Genevive kept a close eye on him. He had found no way to escape his punishment.

He remembered looking across the room the six of them shared, trying to gauge his new Brothers. They were more or less of the same age, Josian and Vittorio perhaps a few years older. He had gotten a rough idea of what they were like during their journey to collect their share of Spawn blood, but at the time he had still been under the illusion that escape was possible and not made much of an effort.

Vittorio had been aggressive. The blond Antivan had told them all they wanted to know and then some about the choice of facing sudden death by assassin or joining the Wardens in a foreign country in order to get him out of the line of inheritance. No one was allowed to forget that he had a family tree that stretched further back than they could even begin to imagine. It had been kind of tiresome since they were all up the same creek now, with only their skills to stand between success and failure. Duncan wasn't worried for himself though, he knew most of what there was to know about surviving against the odds.

Amaury was a Mage conscripted from the circle in Montsimmard, something that seemed to happen on a regular basis. If the man's constant chatter was anything to go by he was dumb as a fencepost. Riordan he had actually seen before. The man had been a sellsword for some years in one of the shadier mercenary companies in the Val. How he had ended up with the Wardens instead of face down in the gutter was anybody's guess, but then again, the same might be said about Duncan. Roland was a quiet Orlesian, a man that seemed capable of taking things in his stride, except confined spaces. Josian was a run-away city elf from Ferelden who seemed frightened by his own shadow. The final member of their little group did not share room with them; a female Mage from the Anderfelds, Renna was her name. Despite the fact that she was as fine looking a woman as one could ever hope to lay eyes on, Duncan suspected he wasn't the only one relieved for once that men and women in the Wardens didn't share sleeping quarters. The woman was as distant and as cold as the country she came from.

Duncan tried to remember something positive about the man on the floor. He could recall Vittorio throwing his weight around on account of his birth and Riordan smashing his face in when he made the mistake of trying it on him. Was that positive? Duncan had certainly thought so at the time but he had been too wrapped up in his own misery to care. Otherwise he remembered a sharp eyed man who hid behind a mask of flippancy. The two-faced ones were the ones to watch and he had pretty much kept clear of Riordan. Sure, they had trained together and gotten drunk together but never been friends.

The only reason he had agreed to do this was on the insistence of the other's and he wanted to get on their good side. His journey with Genevive had left him feeling shaken and inadequate, but also determined to forget it and make a place for himself. Frankly he didn't give a damn about the other man, it was just a dirty job needed doing. He ordered another round, took one draught and threw the rest in the face of the unconscious man. With a satisfied smirk he saw his so called 'Brother' roll over on the side with a groan.

"Ratboy?" The man asked struggling to clear his eyes from thick ale and tangled hair.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I thought so. Your hostility has a certain…flavour.

"Well, I certainly hope it's not to your taste then." Duncan grumbled.

Riordan flopped onto his back again. "Heard you were back. Why can't you just let me go down my own way?"

"My opinion exactly! Duncan stared coldly at the man. "However, I was voted down, we decided to keep you and I got the worst end of the staff."

"I see, did Vittorio agree with the others?

"Yes. I admit that struck me as strange but I assumed you had worked out whatever differences you had."

"Guess the joke is on both of us then."

Duncan looked sceptically at his colleague. "Can you even walk?"

"I can try I guess." With a grunt Riordan began the battle to get up and for a while he seemed to be on the losing side. Duncan snorted and reached down to drag his drunken colleague to his feet, once upright, both men swayed unsteadily. Cursing Duncan drew the other man's arm across his shoulders.

"Wait! Where's your sword?"

"My sword?" Riordan seemed puzzled and he waved a hand in a vague gesture. "I think I left it inside..," his brow furrowed, "no, he never gave a name."

"Maker's balls! You go around on drinking sprees killing people?"

Riordan nodded in agreement. "My sentiment exactly, somebody should have warned him really, and before he tried to cut my throat."

An attempt at robbery or a clever lie, Duncan could not decide which, but in this neighborhood good citizens were about as common as teeth on a chicken. He proceeded to drag his colleague out the door. The man did not offer much resistance, or assistance for that matter.

Naturally it had started to rain and not the light Orlesian version either. They had not gotten far before his burden started to struggle. The sounds coming from him made Duncan release him quickly. Riordan stumbled a few steps and threw up against a wall with what Duncan considered a disturbingly practised motion. He turned away in disgust. Not until the nauseating noises had stopped did he glance back, at the other man's feet there was a faintly glowing puddle.

"You've taken Antivan Black, are you insane? Duncan hissed.

"Antivan Black?" Riordan squinted at the ground, shaking his head as if wonder. "Don't remember that, couldn't have been good." As if suddenly noticing the water cascading off the roof and down his neck he stumbled back a few steps and used the hem of his tunic to wipe away the remainder of ale from his face. Duncan noted that, however the bastard had chosen to misuse his body, there was no trace of it if you didn't count the cuts and bruises. If the man had been sober he could no doubt have put up quite a struggle.

"Have you no fucking decency?" Duncan was almost shouting. "Have you any idea of how your behaviour makes us look, do you even care?" Duncan had seen good men die for the Wardens and here was this pathetic waste of skin dragging their name in the mud.

"No, not really. Why should I?" Riordan tilted his head and said in a casual voice. "I liked you better before when you were full of spite. This new zeal seems ... unnatural. Who shoved the stick up your arse?" As if in sudden inspiration Riordan snapped his fingers. "I know, it was...what's his face...Julien, that's it! During your little honeymoon to Ferelden. Him or his cock sucking partner. Nah, you liked Julien didn't you? He must have buggered you so hard his prick got stuck in there." He grinned maliciously at this satisfactory conclusion.

That was the last straw. "You dirty bastard!" The words came out in a feral snarl. In a few quick motions Duncan had the other man by the neck and head down into a water trough. He felt great satisfaction at the deed until suddenly the struggling body went limp. Duncan hesitated; he hadn't accidentally killed him surely? He shifted his grip to pull the body out when his nose suddenly exploded with pain. Next thing he knew he was on his back with Riordan's hand on his throat. The bastard had head butted him; he had been fooled by the oldest trick in the book. Carefully Duncan opened his streaming eyes and looked along the edge of a knife blade, his own he realised with a sinking feeling. He felt blood running from his nose into the corner of his mouth, he had deserved that. Now, just how far gone was this son of a bitch.

Duncan slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender; water kept dripping into his eyes from the long tresses of Riordan's hair, no coincidence that he suspected as he furiously tried to blink them away.

"You have lost your edge, Ratboy." Riordan's tone was almost regretful.

"You never had one, asshole!" Duncan shot back. That earned him a smile and a fractional loosening of the grip on his windpipe. Gratefully he took a deep breath to gather his strength. He could feel the hand on his throat trembling slightly, the hand holding the knife to his eye did not.

"You may try to lord it over the rest of the fledglings, I don't give a shit, but not over me. Is that clear?" Riordan's slightly slanted pale eyes gave the impression of a very unstable predator.

"Understood." Duncan tried a more reasonable tone "Oh, come now, we're all on the same side here. I apologise."

Riordan relaxed just for an instant but that was all Duncan needed. He struck out with both forearms knocking away the blade. Keeping the knife arm away from him he grabbed a fistful of Riordan's hair, yanked his head down and slammed his forehead into the other man's cheekbone ignoring the pain in his nose. He hooked one leg around Riordan's and bucking his body upwards he tipped the other man onto his back and held him down. It took him a few adrenaline-filled heartbeats to recognise that his opponent wasn't struggling and that he had a sly smile on his face.

"Andrastest tits! For a while there I thought you were never going to throw me, couldn't have held it for an instant longer. Shall we do it again? This time you can start on top if you prefer."

With an oath Duncan shot to his feet. It took him a while to get his temper under control. He gingerly fingered his broken nose while glaring down at his colleague. The man had closed his eyes and was lying with his face catching the rain.

Duncan turned to leave. "I hope someone finally puts you out of your misery tonight!" he shot over his shoulder as he stalked away. He almost wished he had not heard the man's last words.

"So do I, Maker so do I."


	3. The insight

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

**Disclaimer:** No, still not owner of anything Biowaric (unless you count the really big spider that crawled from under the washing machine...)

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><p><strong>The insight<strong>

Duncan woke the next day with something nagging at the back of his mind, an irritating feeling that almost overshadowed the pain at the front of his face. His head felt woolly after a night spent trying not to turn over and accidentally nudge his tender nose against the pillow. He really should have let a healer look at it.

As any military unit the Wardens kept recruits together in the initial groups to encourage a strengthening of bonds, only groups were few survived were merged. Sitting up at the sound of struggle he shook his head and turned to grin at Roland who was getting his bulk out of bed.

"Breakfast?" Duncan suggested.

"Oh Maker yes!" Roland affirmed. When the Orlesian had finally managed to muscle his way into some clothes he glanced at Duncan and winced. "Ugh, that looks broken. Didn't manage that by yourself did you?"

"No, someone else did the honours, thanks to you lot." Duncan muttered.

"Yeah, I thought so, that's Riordan's trademark. He's a funny sort, kind of easy-going for a while and then blam!" Roland slammed a meaty fist into his palm and smiled as if reliving a pleasant memory.

"Why can't he just crack his head open instead as he seems determined to do and save us the trouble!" Duncan retorted a bit stung, Roland didn't seem terribly concerned about the state of his face.

The other man gave him a level glance. Duncan suddenly remembered that inside the giant body, topped off with flaming red hair, was a gentle intelligence it was very easy to miss. There was enormous power in those rolls of muscle and Roland wielded his huge war axe even better than he wielded a spoon. There were few experiences more terrifying than having that big man with his ridiculous hair steaming towards you bellowing at the top of his lungs.

"I like you Duncan, so I'm going to pass on a piece of advice from my granddad, "The man you have at your back in a tight spot should be a friend, or at least not an enemy.'"

"A great philosopher your grandfather?" Duncan scoffed, tightening the straps on his boots.

"Not really and he would have done better remembering that rule himself before letting his cousin in on that cattle-raid." Roland wrinkled his brow. "Anyway, I owe Riordan; he was the only one who didn't mock me for my fear down in the Deep Roads.

Duncan felt a stab of guilt at that. "Come on, we meant nothing by it. We were just afraid, all of us. '_The silence is like a whisper in his head, slowly growing into a roar. He can hear his own blood rushing through his veins. Not even the sound of frightened men breathing, their hushed voices trying to dispel their fear, or the sound their shuffling feet makes, can shatter it. Above him there's a mountain of rock pushing him down, closing in until all that exists is the path in front of him and his own frantically beating heart. The darkness moves and he flinches but it's only the shadows cast by the torches. The air is clinging to him like dirty cobwebs. There's Darkspawn everywhere, not exactly near but he feels their presence pulling at him. Repulsive and irresistible, crawling through his mind like insects.'_

"I guess he was too then".

Duncan had to acknowledge that one if reluctantly, still, it rankled. "So why didn't you let him puke all over you last night if he is such a bloody saint."

"Don't like him that much." Roland flashed a toothy grin. "Oh come on Duncan! You've gotten out of touch, taggin' along with all these toffs. We humble folk; we've stuck together, taking it easy. The giant clapped him on the back, hard enough to make him stagger. "Glad to have you back by the way, I've missed you. Oh and actually, we pulled a fast one on you yesterday; we don't really collect him anymore, haven't for ages." Roland winked and headed out of the dormitory.

"You whoresons! I'll get you for this!" Duncan kept swearing as he stomped after the chuckling man but a part of him recognized that he was happy with the easy camaraderie offered by _some_ of his brethren.

Between mouthfuls of breakfast Duncan kept mulling over what Roland had said. Perhaps he had let his temper get the better of him, he should have followed his initial instinct to give Riordan a wide berth, but he had seemed harmless enough until last night. Angered as Duncan had been at the time, he couldn't fail to notice the self-destructiveness of the man's actions. If he had made an enemy it was the worst kind, one who cared nothing for his own skin. That was a really disturbing thought.

As Roland had predicted Riordan turned up on his own. Late the next day when the group returned from the baths they found him sleeping it off in his bunk. A nasty purple bruise was covering most of what could be seen of his face. _'Not so attractive to the ladies now', _Duncan thought sourly.

Vittorio screwed up his face giving Riordan's bed an angry kick. "Pah, one always hopes, but no, the Maker is deaf to my prayers." Duncan noted that the prod was not overly hard.

A few uneventful days later Duncan stood leaning against the fence surrounding the sparring area, watching Riordan facing off against a sword and shield fighter. The encounter was rather long and boring. Duncan scratched his chin absentmindedly; he had considered growing a beard but the itching made him decide against it. He focused on his other source of irritation currently occupying the sparring area, sword and dagger raised and circling his opponent with a bored look on his face. Even at a quick glance it seemed obvious to him that Riordan wasn't even trying, no one else seemed to be noticing though.

Since Duncan's travels had left him out of touch with the current gossip in Montsimmard, he had asked around a bit wanting to know more about his fellow Warden. He had gotten to know quite a lot about Riordan and the thugs he had supposedly killed single handed. The names left him perplexed. A few he would have thought twice about before antagonizing and he supposed the bastard had been far from sober at the time. Maybe that was why the man had fought them, but that did _not _explain why he was still alive.

"A win!" Duncan's mind returned to the present to see Riordan pick himself off the ground only to smile and bow to the other man in placid acknowledgement. The opponent was no more than middling good. What game was the man playing at?

In a spur of the moment he called out. "Hey Riordan, I've got a score to settle with you, how about it?"

"The challenged has just completed a match. A period of recuperation is required." The master-at-arms declared in a bored tone.

"No, no. It's alright. Bring him on." Riordan said, waving a hand in mock welcome.

That made Duncan hesitate. He was fairly sure the man was good, much better than he let on, but just how good?"

"What are you waiting for? Have you changed your mind? You may if you want to!" Riordan taunted. Laughter echoed among the spectators.

Angered Duncan vaulted the fence. Both being dual wielders, favouring speed and precision over raw strength, they had been pitted against each other before; he had won every time. Moments later the two Wardens faced each other and as protocol demanded they both bowed. Duncan gripped the padded wooden replicas of his favourite weapons, felt the familiar balance of them. They were extensions of him rather than something separate, made him complete. He narrowed his eyes on his opponent and the world fell away. Riordan used the standard training weapons, another show of how little he seemed to care about all of this, yet Duncan read the coiled tension in the other man's body, not easy to spot but there nevertheless. He could see the glint of something sharp in Riordan's eyes; it flickered, and was gone. The other man's pulse was fluttering on the side of his neck, slow and steady with no sign of excitement.

"I'm on to you." Duncan whispered with a smile.

"I have no idea what you mean." Riordan answered with a slight smile.

They circled each other testing strengths and weaknesses with a few feints. Duncan slipped his sword past Riordan's defence in a low thrust. At the same instant he lashed out with his dagger aiming a blow with the hilt to his opponent's neck. Both were parried, but only just. Riordan was forced back. He retaliated, reaching out a bit too far. Duncan spun and managed to knock him off his feet while twisting out of the path of the man's sword with a hairs breadth to spare. Riordan rolled and got up giving Duncan a mocking grin. Duncan ducked a careless high cut while watching out for his legs. The bastard was cunning. He suddenly felt the sting of sand in his eyes. Yes, too cunning by far.

On instinct alone he avoided the sweep of Riordan's sword to the side of his head and countered with a vicious blow with the flat side of the sword to the other man's upper arm, he swore he could see a smirk on his opponents face as the blow connected.

"A hit." the master-at-arms announced, mopping his face against the heat of the sun.

"Fight, damn you!" Duncan hissed as Riordan made a great show of flexing his shoulder.

"I had the impression I was." The reply was delivered in a mocking tone which made Duncan grit his teeth. He slashed low at the other man's legs. His opponent parried and retreated. Duncan feinted with a backhanded sweep of the dagger, high, moving forward with a long stride, while his other hand whipped the sword around. When the blow connected he was more astonished than anything else. Riordan went down like a slaughtered ox.

"A win." the master-at-arms announced. I'm taking a break.

A healer was making his way over with a bored expression. Duncan edged away from his opponent, scanning the crowd of spectators. He was not satisfied with this victory; he knew the bastard had seen something or someone on the sidelines. Impatiently he shook off the words of congratulations. In the corner of his vision he saw Riordan struggle to his feet, scrabble over the fence and lurch off into the crowd. Someone then.


	4. The garden

**The Garden**

His sight slightly blurred, Riordan leaned his hands on his knees to catch his breath. His head felt like it was about to explode. Of the one he thought he'd seen there was no sign. To get out of the jostling crowd he stumbled into the herb garden, the relief almost made him sweat. He lay down on one of the wooden benches and covered his eyes with his arms, willing the nausea to pass. Had he been mistaken? Perhaps. It was not the first time he had imagined seeing one of those faces. His ear was still ringing from the blow Duncan had delivered earlier and from the sticky feel there, the skin had been broken as well. Duncan yes that was another problem he had to deal with sooner or later. He cursed himself for his carelessness. He had realised at once what the cunning bastard was aiming for. In the future he would need to keep clear of him.

The heat of the sun combined with the moisture of the heavy dew from this morning brought out the smells of the herbs; warm, green and sweet. He knew little of plants but recognised the scent of Lavender and something else, resinous, perhaps Rosemary. The smell reminded him suddenly of the small unkempt garden of his childhood. His mother had sometimes brought him and his sister there in a vain hope of finding refuge.

_He glances into her eyes that are dark and so different from his own pale ones. __Her hands clench in her lap. Her fear so strong he can taste it. Whore they call her though he can't understand why. He turns away, ignoring the sickening unease in his stomach. His sister is sitting happily oblivious by a patch of Marigolds. She gurgles and picks something up in one chubby hand and eats it. She laughs at him and despite everything, he finds himself smiling back. Grabbing a Marigold he settles cross-legged in front of her. "See this, you can eat this instead." Chuckling happily she reaches for it. He glances back at their mother, she smiles both pretending all is well._

"Are you all right?" Fear shot through his body, it took him a heartbeat to realize that it was because of the lingering terror of a memory, not this new potential threat.

"Yes."

"Hm, I get it, stupid question."

"I'll give you no more sport today Duncan. Maybe tomorrow, why don't you come back tomorrow?" He tried very hard for sarcasm but even to his own ears he just sounded tired. Gingerly he moved his head; perhaps it was time to see the healer again. As if reading his mind Duncan said.

"You'll have to get that cheek seen too. I'm sorry by the way, you were meant to duck so I could knee you in the face."

"Thank you for the tip, I'm sure I would have felt so much better with a broken nose. But you're the expert there, you tell me." He immediately regretted the last smart remark; it slipped out of his mouth without a detour through his brain. He wanted to kick himself, had he not just been deliberating how to avoid the man; not antagonize him? He was more off balance by the latest events than he'd thought.

Astonishingly enough he heard Duncan laugh; it was such a rare sound he had to finally turn his head to be sure. Any hope that the man would leave him alone was dashed since he was now crouching comfortably on the grassy verge. Carefully Riordan inspected him. The sun gave his dark brown hair, a slight halo, leaving most of his face in shadow.

"So," Duncan began after a slight hesitation, "I have tried to learn more about you these last few days. To my surprise I heard at lot of stories in which the names did not mean as much to the teller as they did to me."

Riordan felt a stab of anger at that. What business did Duncan have to go digging in his past? He swallowed it down though, he'd learned his lesson. Getting up he went over to the water pump keeping Duncan in the corner of his eye. A few forceful pushes on the lever brought water gushing into the trough underneath, as he washed most of the blood off his face, the other man continued.

"Did you really take down 'The Tanner' and 'Six-Fingers'?."

He turned towards Duncan wiping the water out of his eyes. "'The Tanner' yes, easier than I had expected in fact, but 'Six-Fingers'" He pumped the handle a couple of more times and leaned down to drink from the jet.

"Yes?" Duncan prompted and then added with mock scowl. "I will dunk you again if you don't tell me." He grimaced. "I lived in mortal fear of that monster for years."

Despite himself Riordan felt an unexpected kinship with this man; they shared things many of the others did not, he found himself answering.

"No, I have to admit I was almost sober when 'Six-Fingers' found me. You know I ran with his gang, right?" He waited for the confirming nod. "Then you may also know, you don't quit, you die. Me turning Warden made him lose face. After I took down 'The Tanner' he had to come himself which was a rather nasty surprise. Even with my Taint he was a tough son-of-a-bitch. Had I not managed to twist around at the last moment I would have been singing castrato in the Chantry instead of having a rather spectacular scar across my ass. Luckily he overreached. Riordan paused thoughtfully. I checked his hands afterwards, he didn't have six fingers after all, I was kind of disappointed."

Duncan grinned, his eyes glittering. "So you really don't know why he was called 'Six-Fingers'?"

Riordan raised an eyebrow. "No."

"The word on the streets was that when he jerked off it looked like he had six fingers."

Riordan burst out laughing. "I was clearly looking in the wrong place then." When the laughter had subsided he glanced over at the other man, wary again and irritated with himself. So much for learning lessons. "Why the sudden interest?"

Duncan seemed a little uneasy and when he spoke it was hesitantly. "Our little run-in the other night got me thinking." He raised his head to look straight at Riordan.

Riordan glanced aside. Those dark eyes were too sharp, saw too much. "I knew it was a mistake, I was too far gone to think clearly," he admitted.

"Why do you do this? Look for trouble; hide your skills like that? I have a feeling you could wipe the floor with the others but you don't."

"Oh please!" Haven't you noticed I'm also a bit slow? I have considerable difficulties in grasping complex orders." Riordan's voice was sharp with sarcasm.

"But why?"

"Now who is the clever one? I get grunt duty I can do in my sleep."

"I see." There was a trace of admiration in the other man's voice. Duncan unfolded his tall frame and stood up. "You asked me earlier why the interest. He paused. "The man you have at your back in a tight spot should be a friend, or at least not an enemy."

"That's rather clever. Did you come up with that all by yourself?"

The other man flashed him an evil grin before turning away. "Certainly not, it's the words of a great philosopher. Crack open a book instead of your head once in a while."

"Hey." On and impulse Riordan called out. "How's this for a deal? You stay out of my face and I stay out of yours."

"That your offer? Sure."

Riordan regarded Duncan's retreating back with narrowed eyes. He didn't like how easily he slipped into something resembling camaraderie with the man. During their conversation it had been too easy to forget the sharp cunning of a true survivor which hid behind the open and sometimes downright boyish facade. With a sigh he left the seclusion of the garden and went to get his injuries seen to, and to find some distraction, not necessarily in that order.

The new healer apprentice was plump and plain, just what he wanted so he gave her the smile he knew women liked. He managed to snatch some sleep while she prepared his wound and didn't wake until the healer put a needle through his cheek. While the man was working, grumbling about the carelessness of young men, Riordan was acutely aware that the apprentice's hand was lingering on his neck longer than necessary. Finally the healer left the room ordering her to apply salve to his wound. When she was done Riordan sat up giving he mischievous grin.

"There are a few tender areas on my back I can't quite reach, perhaps you could...?" She giggled as he pulled off his tunic. After flashing a coquettish smile she moved around him and began to rub some salve into the bruises, together with a few places he was certain were perfectly fine. When she finally worked her way around to his front he placed his hand on her waist. When she did not object he drew her in between his thighs. She did not resist, just as he had suspected she wouldn't. He let one hand slide up to her breast, she arched to accommodate him. Smiling he reached down to pull her dress up around her waist while calling her beautiful. He would play nice this time; perhaps he would want to bed her again. He normally didn't, except when it came to whores. Whores were different; life had taught them better than to have expectations. Well, he did make an exception once in a while. Not only was she easy, she seemed clean and healthy too.


	5. The guy with the earring

**A note: **Co written with Gaspode5.

**Disclaimer:** Still not owner of characters, tell me if that changes...

* * *

><p><strong>The guy with the earring<strong>

Duncan sighed; Ser Erik was definitely far down the Warden ladder and seemed almost constantly drunk. In Duncan's opinion he was hardly even fit for this simple mission; the delivery of arms and other equipment to the Warden compound in Jader. Currently the man was swaying precariously in the saddle and appeared to be asleep. Duncan had been singled out as second in command on this trip. It had made him feel proud, until Ser Erik had grumbled 'I can never tell you new lot apart, but that black face of yours and the earring should be easy enough to remember heh.' Duncan did his best to ignore the sting of disappointment.

As the shadows lengthened and the air grew chill, he felt he had to suggest to the Senior Warden "A good place to stop I think." Carefully though, as not to wake him too quickly lest he fall off his horse again. The last man that did that had been given the honours of digging the latrine. Ser Erik jolted upright but thankfully didn't fall.

"Uh, all right, prepare camp if you wish."

It all descended into not quite organised chaos as twenty something men dismounted and began to set up camp. The chaos increased as a few of the new recruits started throwing tent poles at each other playing spears versus Darkspawn. Duncan pretended not to notice and instead proceeded to set up Ser Eric's tent. The man seemed lost in thought as he waited. Taking slow sips from the hip flask he always carried with him; hands shaking badly.

Ser Erik surveyed the chaos with a scowl. "Any man skilled enough with a bow, go hunting! The rest of you, check yourselves," he eventually barked. It was the first good idea the man had had since they left Montsimmard and Duncan was getting tired of the eternal mystery stew that carried over from one evening meal to another seemingly indefinitely. Salt meat and dried peas was what usually went into it every night, but by now he could swear there were things living in it. A bit of fresh game would be a welcome change in the diet.

To his surprise he spotted not only Josian but also Riordan teaming up with the hunters. So, the bastard was a fair shot as well as a skilled horseman. That told him two things; the man was country bred and he was no farmer's boy. In Ferelden only nobles had horses and an ordinary peasant would never have been trained with the recurve he spotted in Riordan's hand.

As the hunting team left, Duncan narrowly managed to avoid being hit by a tent pole and stalked over to the culprit. "Hit me and I will rearrange your ugly mug!" He grabbed the ginger haired young man by the arm and glared at him.

"Right, right." The youth lumbered back to his cronies, not overly impressed.

Seeing the sad state of the camp Duncan added with his best commander voice, "And get the Blighted tents sorted, now!" To his surprise everybody obeyed, not with any haste, but still.

"Nice work!" a voice at his side said. Duncan started; he had not noticed Renna sidling up to him.

"That's irony I suppose." Duncan cast an irritated glance at the Mage from the Anderfels. She was dubbed the Ice-queen or rather more maliciously, the Ice Cunt, but only very quietly when she was nowhere nearby, since all male Wardens were, by and large, rather attached to their family jewels. With her long silvery blond hair and pale skin the former nickname was almost inevitable. She was in fact a vision and well she knew it although she hid her vanity beneath a cool veneer of disdain. The fact that she was a cracking battle Mage kept the leering to a minimum, or at least to a safe distance. You just never knew if one of those spells might backfire.

"Of course. Still, at least you made an effort. Too bad it is wasted on this rabble."

"I take it 'rabble' doesn't include you." Duncan said dryly.

"Duncan, I'm playing in a league of my own, you know that. At least you give this bunch some semblance of...style." Was she flirting, really? He watched her hair swing with the motion of her hips as she withdrew. No surely not.

The smell of venison roasting over the fire was raising everybody's spirits. Amaury and Vittorio were playing dice with a quiet Josian and a couple of lads from another group. That was another rather strange alliance. Vittorio's strikingly good looks and haughty demeanor seemed ill matched with Amaury. Mages were usually clever, or perhaps the stupid one's kind of weeded themselves out early on. How Amaury, whose body seemed to have more joints than the average person, had managed to reach adult age without actually setting himself on fire was a mystery. Possibly it was raw talent and luck, a lot of luck. He was a fair healer though, on the rare occasions when he managed to pull himself together.

The sound of laughter jolted Duncan from his reverie. Someone had cracked a joke. He watched their smiling faces and how they passed food and utensils between them without a thought. Riordan was tearing pieces off a loaf of bread before tossing almost half of it to Roland. "Small wonder your father drove you to join the Wardens, you probably ate all the livestock!"

Roland caught the bread laughing good naturally. "Not all! You're still running around but I bet you taste rotten, even with onions."

"So you were a farmer's boy I take it? Duncan inquired.

"Aye, and still better than the lot of you." Roland said around a mouthful of bread.

Vittorio, the blond Antivan warrior, seized his chance. "You are all rabble. I don't know if I have told you this Duncan but I hail from one of Antiva's most prominent families, brought down by poisonous slander by a..."

A communal groan of, 'Oh no, not this again' echoed around the fire. Duncan laughed with the rest at Vittorio's sullen face. With a small twinge of regret he realized that the others had forged bonds and alliances amongst them while he was gone. They had created a world of their own where he was left out just as he had left them behind.

He suddenly missed Fiona. Of the people he traveled with on that fateful trip into the Deep Roads, she was the only one he could call a friend. The others had been brothers in arms and he'd learned to trust them, but friends -no. He missed her wry sense of humor and her down-to-earth sensibilities, her stubbornness even...Hardly anybody had commented on her disappearance but then, Wardens came and went all the time, they died in battle, got transferred, or went to their Calling. Her pregnancy had caused a few raised eyebrows but everybody knew what happened to the rare children born of Wardens and the less said about it the better. He wondered how she was doing, if she was happy in Weisshaupt, or felt as lonely as he did right now.

He took a stab at cautiously inserting himself into this the sphere of camaraderie. "What about you Riordan, you're Fereldan, how come you turned up here?"

The dark haired man met his eyes and then shrugged. "We may choose to leave our past behind when we join, right? Gutter rat." He smirked and the firelight gave his eyes a decidedly evil glint.

"Bet he was a whore." Vittorio snickered, still stung by the earlier dismissal.

Riordan objected with mock indignation. "A whore? Vittorio! I was THE whore. I did anything with a pulse, so come here darling; I'll do you for free." While putting on this show he stood up and slowly advanced towards the Antivan until he was towering above him. Quick as a snake he crouched down and grabbed the other man by the crotch. A sound of jeering and laughter exploded from the other wardens.

"Shut up over there or I'll have you all flogged when we return. I'm trying to get some rest!" Ser Erik's head emerged from the tent, scowling furiously. The activities around the fire subsided to a grumbling hush.

Riordan whispered in the Antivan's ear loud enough to make sure everyone heard, "I feel your eagerness, I'm so sorry, but it was not to be." Vittorio tried to push him away, his face twisted in anger and disgust.

"Vai a farti chiavare!" He fell backwards as he was suddenly released from his struggles. "Never lay your hands on me again or I will cut them off!"

Riordan looked down at him with mock regret. "That will be very, very, hard but I will try. Unless you tempt me too much that is." Duncan caught the ambiguousness of the man's words, even if Vittorio didn't, "Instead," the man continued sitting down next to Sancha, one of the few female wardens in Montsimmard, "I'll extend the offer to the most beautiful woman here." He put an arm around her shoulders.

There's only two of us here, you scoundrel." Sancha gave Riordan a shove, but to Duncan's surprise she did not seem displeased, he had expected such a remark would earn the man a clip around the ear at the very least. He had been working up his own courage to approach the woman, agonizing not a little bit on how to go about it. His experiences with women in the past were limited to drunken tumbles, a quick fuck against the nearest surface. This was different; he just couldn't imagine doing that to Sancha. She was strong and independent, he liked her and what's more, he respected her and was at a loss for what to do. And here Riordan, who as far as Duncan could tell didn't respect anybody, just barged in with a comment like that and got a smile for it! He suddenly found himself hating and envying the man. His only comfort was that Riordan returned to his original place with a mocking shrug of his shoulders.

Pushing his annoyance aside Duncan reached for a piece of bread and gave Sancha his most mischievous smile and a wink. "So when you're not being harassed by idiots like him, how does it feel to be the most beautiful woman in the Wardens?"

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><p>Vai a farti chiavare – Fuck off<p> 


	6. The black son of a bitch

**A Note: **Co-written with Gaspode5

**Disclaimer: **Please tell me the day I own Duncan or Riordan!**  
><strong>

**The Black Son of a Bitch**

Duncan watched Riordan swat irritably at the evil tempered gelding as it tried to take another bite out of him. Soon he would have to put a stop to the arrangement he had made with one of the stable hands, another reformed rat. It meant that if there was a vicious beast with a bad gait to be had Riordan got it, while Duncan was handed the most docile animal available. Initially seeing Riordan getting nipped and kicked had amused him no end, but sooner or later the man would catch on and Duncan wouldn't want his friend to become the target of Riordan's ire when it happened. No matter how amusing, it also had its drawbacks. This trek through The Dales was one example. The black brute his friend had come up with this time could not be trusted to stay on the path, nor not to crowd or kick the other horses.

The gelding danced around almost sending Riordan off the ledge where they had stopped for their break. Roland caught him by the arm hauling him back. "I'm going to kill that evil black son of a bitch as soon as we get back!" Riordan vowed as soon as his feet were firmly on the ground again. As if the gelding had heard him he aimed a kick in his direction.

"Shame to waste a horse that is such a good judge of character!" Vittorio smirked, jabbing Duncan in the ribs.

Duncan grinned. "You know Riordan, I'm not much of a horse person myself but I think horses can sense whether you like them or not. Try sweet talking yours as I do mine." As if making a point Duncan's mare mussed his hair almost lovingly. Riordan shot him a glance that promised murder.

Despite their difficulties they managed to get down to the lowlands before dark. The party set up camp, confident that tomorrow or the day after they would catch up with the rest of the group. In a fit of inspiration or drunkenness Ser Eric had decided the mountain path had to be checked for Spawn, so far their group had found absolutely nothing.

Riordan, as the honorary expert at all things outdoors, was handed the tricky task of lighting a fire in the chill and slightly damp air. Nobody would let Duncan near the cooking pot after his discussion with Amaury about herbs, where he turned out to have a disturbing knowledge of poisons. As a result he was sent off to fetch firewood together with Vittorio. The Antivan had managed to shirk his camp duties during their first trips together through the sheer force of his arrogance. That ended abruptly when Riordan threatened to have Duncan drug him and kick him off the nearest cliff as he slept.

After a meager meal consisting of traveling rations, Roland and Riordan bedded down as if they were back at the barracks. Vittorio was going through his pack with a disgruntled expression on his face.

"Shouldn't we assign watches?" Duncan queried looking askance at the darkness beyond the campfire.

"What for? Spawn would wake us before they got near and there's nothing else to be afraid of." Roland pointed out reasonably.

"But," Duncan hesitated, he was well aware that the other two were used to the more rural areas of the world that existed, vast, mysterious and dangerous, outside cities, whilst he was not. There might be an occasional homestead or small village not too far away but as far as Duncan was concerned this was the heart of the wilderness, "what about bears and wolves and whatnot?"

"What about them? Whatnots never come near a fire," Roland muttered, "and I'm not wasting a good night's sleep 'cause you're a jittery city-boy. Now, get some yourself!"

"If I were you Duncan, I would worry more about werewolves, they're not afraid of fire." Riordan supplied helpfully.

"Werewolves, there is no such thing!" A howl in the distance belied his statement. "Was that a werewolf?"

"I'm not sure." Roland answered. "Riordan, what's your opinion?"

"Hard to say, probably not, but you can't be sure until you feel their breath."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Duncan moved closer to the others.

"Werewolves eat only human flesh, they have terrible breath. Now shut up" Riordan wrapped himself in his blanket and turned his back on Duncan, it was impossible to see if he was trying to hide a smirk.

"What about watches?"

"I'm not doing anything those lazy bastards won't do." Vittorio snapped.

There was a snore from Roland and a snort from Riordan. Blight! He could kill them all. Duncan spent the night wide awake, anxiously listening to every sound in the darkness.

The group stopped for a short break around midday. The light morning drizzle had cleared up and the day looked brighter. It did nothing to cheer up Duncan where he huddled by his horse, miserable in his damp leathers and tired after a restless night.

"Damn horses eat better than we do." Roland muttered tightening the girth of his massive gelding.

"Blame the Fereldans who can't handle their horses. Now we will have to wait for Duncan to catch up," Vittorio grumbled.

Riordan was in the saddle, his black mount pirouetting restlessly with pent up energy. "I'll race you to that knoll over there Antivan. First one gets the other's rations!"

"Ha! Trying to lose weight are you?" Vittorio circled his roan with the ease of a born horseman.

"Is that really a good idea?" Duncan said uncertainly; it seemed Riordan even had difficulties pointing his horse in the right direction.

"Let the morons break their necks and we'll split their rations." Roland mumbled.

Vittorio got a head start, but as soon as the black gelding saw another horse taking off he shot forward like a quarrel. Soon he was alongside the roan crowding it. Duncan watched in horror whilst his mare snorted as if secretly agreeing. As the riders disappeared out of sight Roland shrugged and nudged his mount into a trot.

Suddenly there were sounds of screaming, a woman's voice loudest of all. Duncan and Roland glanced at each other before setting off. What they saw when they crested the hill was chaos.

Guards, all displaying a white stag on their surcoats, were trying to drag Vittorio off his horse while the rider less black gelding was careening around with a guard hanging from the bridle as it trampled a meal fit for a king into dust. A woman was screaming and cursing as she clutched at her torn skirt. Riordan must have been thrown off. Duncan spotted him now, shaking his head, trying to get to his feet. While Vittorio managed to fight free, Riordan was immediately caught and forced to his knees with a sword at his throat. Duncan recognised the guards' coat of arms but couldn't place it. It used to be a hobby of his, to know the coat of arms of the noble families of Val Royeaux. Not that someone like him would ever have been able to steal from those great and, most of all, well guarded mansions, it was far too risky, but there was no harm in dreaming.

"Hold!" Duncan urged his horse forward and put as much command in his voice as he could, he may not be a leader but he was good at pretending. "We're Grey Wardens."

"More bandits!" The guards swerved to face this new threat, the black horse decided that enough was enough, kicked himself loose and set off into the distance.

Holding up his hands, Duncan clamped down on his nerves that coiled like a nest of snakes in his stomach. "Gentlemen we're Grey Wardens and wish you no harm." He could see the guards hesitate and continued smoothly. "The Order will compensate you for all damages." He winced inwardly at the cost of that, he had a fair idea of what the trampled goods might fetch on the black market."

"How dare you, churl, to disturb me, upset my lady...!" A man, red in the face with anger, stepped forward. Dismayed Duncan recognised him, the eldest son of one of the families closest to the Emperor. Memories suddenly flooded him, a different time, a different place and he...was different.

_He quakes as he's brought before a man that looks much smaller than his reputation. His face appears to be chipped out of granite. Duncan has never met the man before but he knows of him, everybody does, the way everybody knows about demons of the Fade. Panos eyes and ears are everywhere but Duncan has no idea of how his own insignificant presence got noticed. Panos has a job for him because Duncan is sneaky and a good thief, he has a good head on his shoulders and a mind that yet has to be fried with the poisons so many like him use to silence their ghosts. It's easy enough; it's if he fails that things will get difficult. He's to watch a noble man who owes Panos money and report if the noble tries to leave the Val. So Duncan watches and for fear of missing something, anything, doesn't sleep for days. When he's done watching he's half delirious and the proud owner of five silvers._

"What are you waiting for?" the woman screamed. "Kill them!"

Duncan took a closer look at her as well, his heart sank further, that was not the man's wife and if the man even suspected Duncan might know...Steeling himself he continued and was pleased to hear how calm he sounded. "I apologise on behalf of the Wardens. You will receive compensation for the damage but I can't let you kill that man."

The eyes of the duke's son narrowed, he signalled to the man holding Riordan whose neck was stretched, with blood running down his throat. He seemed half dazed still. Duncan slid off his horse, he noticed Roland had loosened his sword and gotten his feet out of the stirrups. Duncan advanced, hands raised, as he tried to exude the kind of natural confidence and authority that he always used to feel from Commander Genevive. If only he actually knew how to do that. "So the men here might not be the pride of the Order," he glared disdainfully at Riordan and sent a warning to Vittorio who had started opening his mouth. "Wait!" Miraculously the man snapped it shut, "but stupidity isn't a crime and since no one seems hurt I suggest we go our separate ways."

"Are you a man? Kill them!" The woman screeched but there was panic in her voice now.

Duncan grabbed hold of that with both hands. "My Lord," he said, "your lady wife is distraught, she needs you." He turned to the woman and gave her what he hoped was a smile that inspired confidence. "My Lady," he bowed, "I'm deeply sorry that we've caused you so much distress. Trust me, these buffoons will be severely punished." He gestured towards Vittorio and Riordan.

He could feel Vittorio's anger; the man really was very good at sending. Not all Wardens were able to use the Taint to communicate, for some it simply remained a way of sensing Spawn, or other Wardens. That Vittorio, the disagreeable Antivan, was so good at it, was an irony.

The woman looked haughtily at him but at least she shut up. "Sadly there are greater concerns than a couple of clumsy Wardens." He turned towards the noble again. "We've been tracking Darkspawn in this area all morning and thought we were getting near, therefore my colleagues unfortunate eagerness. If I may be so bold, it might be safest for you and your lady wife to return to the city." There was a heart stopping moment where Duncan's final words hung in the air and everything else in the balance.

The noble straightened. "Hmpf, very well, but first, put your mangy dogs on a leash." He crossed his arms and glared at Duncan who needed a moment to realise what the man meant. He winced inwardly. 'Maker, I'm so dead!'

He marched towards Riordan as he barked at Roland "You, deal with the idiot there!" and gestured towards Vittorio. Roland promptly moved his horse alongside Vittorio's and grabbed his reins. The Antivan was red in the face with near incandescent anger.

As Duncan approached Riordan, a smirking guard shoved the man face first in the dirt with the flat of his sword. "I'll take it from here," Duncan snapped. He put his foot on Riordan's shoulders "And you, stay where you are." He snarled.

He hardly dared to breathe until the Duke gave a terse nod. The party gathered their things and with the carelessness of the disgustingly wealthy ignored the salvageable remains of the picnic. Duncan could feel Vittorio's eyes boring smoking holes in his back; he was going to pay for this. He crossed his arms over his chest and bowed as the party finally left. The woman was casting sheep's eyes at him now and that wasn't good at all. He winced as the noble glared at her.

Once the party was out of view, he reached down to give Riordan a hand up. The man smiled at him, or at least he showed a lot of teeth. He turned to the others, bracing himself. Roland was grinning and Vittorio looked like he wanted to kill something. "What?" Duncan said nervously.

Riordan's grin got even wider. "You sly dog, where the Blight did that come from? Remind me never to trust that innocent puppy look again," he drawled. Vittorio appeared to be about to say something too but scowled and turned away.

"Hey look what I found!" Roland pulled forth an entire roast suckling pig from the wreckage of the picnic. Trust Roland to keep his head cool and think ahead. Duncan wandered over to him. Riordan followed and slapped him on the back, a little bit too hard.

"And it looked like the wife will be quite happy to service you if you meet again. Nice work! A bit over the top though, don't you think?"

"Well you know what they say, the truth shall set you free. I did you quite a favour back there, aside from saving your sorry ass."

"The truth! Faccia di merda, I'm going to put you in your place when we get back." Vittorio growled behind them.

"Now now lads, we're all friends here right?" Roland cut in smoothly. He handed Duncan the suckling pig with a flourish. "You earned this one City-boy."

Duncan looked around at the culinary carnage. There was some good stuff left. "It seems we'll all be eating well tonight."

"I guess my rations are yours too!" Too bad they disappeared with the horse from the Black City," Riordan said with a lopsided grin. They were all sitting around the camp fire picking through what they'd salvaged from the picnic.

Duncan stared down at the fishy smelling black goo that sat in the middle of his bowl. It tasted salty and, well, fishy. "Why in the Maker's name would anybody pay good money to eat this?" He grimaced but resisted the urge to spit the stuff out like some spoilt brat. Vittorio huffed but again said nothing; in fact he'd been unusually quiet all day. Sadly it probably wouldn't last.

"Because it's expensive and hard to come by, you savage." Riordan rolled his eyes and continued with sarcasm dripping off every word, "If it's difficult to find or pricey, it's got to be good. Just eat your spoils and shut up."

Duncan prodded the food. The notion only served to prove that the nobility was stupid beyond imagination. "Now what I want from you lot tonight is a watch rota."

"You've earned it, but there ain't no such thing as Werewolves," Riordan said around a mouth full of the black fishy stuff.

"Just to be on the safe side," Duncan smiled snatching the remnants of the pig off Roland, "and no nodding off either!"

Riordan scoffed. "Don't be scared rat-boy. I'll watch over you like a Mabari bitch with one pup!"

They managed to catch up with the rest of the group the following day and the remaining journey to Jader passed without further incidents. Duncan sighed with relief, finally civilization, not to mention a chance to get away from the two lunatics he had been travelling with. He was perfectly fine with Roland, everyone was fine with Roland. Thank the Maker he would not have to spend another night in the wilds with the other two. In hindsight he thought that fate must have heard his thoughts and decided to have some fun at his expense as Ser Eric emerged into the courtyard.

"I need two wardens to go to Ferelden, anyone here speaks the horrid language?" Duncan reluctantly took a step forward. "The earring! Duncan right? That's one. I need one more."

"Riordan does!" Vittorio said with a smirk.

"And who is that?"

"That would be me." Riordan sighed and raised his hand.

"Well why didn't you say so yourself? It's not a crime to speak Fereldan, even if it probably ought to be, hah! So, the two of you better pack some gear cause you're off at first light tomorrow. It's just a matter of delivering some missives; even a couple of whelps like you shouldn't be able to botch that one. Whatever supplies you need, you can get from the quartermaster."

Behind Riordan's back the Antivan smirked and nudged Amaury in the side. Duncan glanced at Riordan but the man's face gave nothing away.

As Duncan investigated the small rather ragged looking tent they were handed, with misgivings and resigned himself to a few wet nights, it ALWAYS rained in Ferelden, he noticed Riordan stowing away a canteen he had been handed by the elven assistant.

"We already have enough of those."

Riordan sneered. "You're such a moron! That isn't nearly enough for me to put up with your company." He handed a coin to the elf who swiftly pocketed the extras.

"Feel free to make a run for it." Duncan shot back.

"Run from the Taint? I thought you were smarter than that, I certainly am."

"I'm so looking forward to this." Duncan muttered.

"That makes two of us," Riordan answered, before barging out the door. Duncan cast a sour glance after him before heading over to the elf dropping him another coin.

"Whatever the idiot got, I want twice as much."


	7. The End part 2

"So," Duncan attempted to recapture the polite conversational tone they had started with. It was a struggle, "how are things in Jader these days?"

Riordan snatched up the bottle and poured himself another generous measure. For a while the sound of the bottle against the glass was the only sound in the room. "Same as always, getting all the scum and stuff from the bottom of the barrel. You know Vittorio is in command?" He returned to his chair. Duncan could practically taste the tension in the man.

"I heard, how's that working out?"

"Well he doesn't do more damage than the last one, but that's not saying much."

"And you two, are you getting along…?"

"I ignore him and he pretends to ignore me, suits me fine. Sometimes I can see that he has it on the tip of his tongue to order me around, I love seeing him biting it back."

Duncan found himself smiling. "He never even tried?"

"Once." Riordan took another sip from his glass before cradling it in his hands.

"And you?" Duncan prodded. He leaned slightly forward trying to catch the other man's eyes but as always the messy curtain of Riordan's hair hid any expressions.

"Oh I do my share, training, the Roads, Joinings…I think I hold the current record in recruits slain."

Duncan sighed. "We don't perform the Joining often in Ferelden, but I know what you mean."

"At one joining I actually had to take down two recruits." Riordan added as an afterthought, "I think one might have held had not the other one balked first."

"You're doing your duty." Duncan could see the self loathing on Riordan's face. The man had always been his own greatest enemy.

Riordan gave a bitter smile. "Ha, even that I don't. There was this woman, no more than a child actually, I even started to mouth the meaningless 'I'm sorry' when she suddenly looked me straight in the eye and I knew I couldn't do it."

"What then?" The words were spoken softly, almost as a whisper.

There was a flash of anger in the other man's face. "Don't worry, she didn't get far." Riordan tossed back his drink. "Did her a disservice actually. Would have been much cleaner had I done it." His voice was harsh.

"It was necessary." Duncan couldn't stop himself and reached out to lay his hand on the other man's arm, it was thrown off with an impatient gesture.

"Save your platitudes for your recruits!" Riordan rose and went over to the coach where he spun back to face Duncan. "But do tell me, would you have killed this one and called it necessity?"

That took Duncan aback, would he? The thought that Alistair would refuse had never crossed his mind, Duncan had feared that he would die yes, but not balk, not Alistair. "I don't know…" he whispered.

"You don't know?" Riordan's derision was obvious.

"That's what I said," Duncan ground out, "what do you suggest, let them run?"

"Yes, no, why not?" Riordan paused. "What we probably should do is force the brew down their throats; they are the ones with the brains after all. I mean, what risk is there? If they are worthless, Spawn will get them soon enough."

"You have spent some time contemplating this...?"

"I've had time." The other man cut him short.

"You haven't voiced these opinions to anyone else I hope?"

Riordan gave a harsh bark of laughter. "No, and I don't exactly have a reputation for being stable so that entire incident was quickly forgotten." After a slight pause Riordan shook his head and changed track completely. "Don't mind me," he sighed, "you know I get maudlin sometimes when I drink."

Duncan took the hint and smiled. "I remember."

The other man finally turned to look him in the eyes. "You've made a lot of difference here."

"Not as much as I hoped or dreamed. I've done a lot of travelling trying to rebuild but it's difficult. People are suspicious of us still. You remember the first time we were here?"

"I do. Times were different then, the weather was not."

"That's Ferelden for you, all the seasons in one day. The Fereldans stay the same though, stubborn and unmovable."

Riordan shook his read ruefully but Duncan could see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.


	8. The many seasons of the day

**A Note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

**Disclaimer:** Uh yes!

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><p><strong>The many seasons of the day<strong>

Duncan smirked to himself. In the complete darkness of the small tent he could feel and hear his companion shifting and trying to get out of the constant dripping that was blessedly isolated to Riordan's side of the tent. Normally the man had the enviable ability to go to sleep in an instant as if on command, whilst Duncan lay listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the wilderness that to him seemed full of creatures out to get him. Even the pesky little mosquitoes appeared to favour him over Riordan, but not tonight. The rain that had threatened to fall almost as soon as they crossed the Ferelden border had finally made good on its threat. The sound was magnified by the canvas and made what was in fact a drizzle that swept through the night causing whispers in the trees, sound like an epic downpour. He wondered drowsily how the horses were doing.

"Andraste's tits! You _had _to choose a leaking bloody tent!" Riordan sat up with an angry twist and bumped his head against the tent roof which, judging by the unmanly squawk that came out of the darkness caused more leakage.

"What do I know about tents?" Duncan protested and buried deeper into the blanket, just in case. "You could have done that yourself if you hadn't been too sodding lazy."

"Lazy? I tried to find Vittorio and beat the crap out of the little snitch before he got away." Duncan could feel Riordan angrily tugging at his blanket, trying to find a dry patch.

"Can't really blame you for that, but don't blame me for the tent then, and if you're considering working me over, think twice!"

"Nah, I've watched you, you're too good if you know what's coming, but from now on we're switching sides each night, just so you know."

"Whatever! I'm no pussy like you." Duncan gave an exaggerated yawn. "Shut up and let me get back to sleep." He feigned slow breaths until he was absolutely sure the other man slept. It wouldn't do to let his guard down, fellow Warden or not.

The following night the sky was clear. The stars looked like diamonds scattered over black velvet, almost bright enough to provide a bit of light. It was as if the Maker wanted to emphasise that there was absolutely no chance of rain. Duncan put his bedding on the leaky side of the tent as agreed and managed not to look too smug. So far they had not spoken much during their journey and even if Duncan found it a bit boring it was probably for the best.

"Whoever said the Maker doesn't have a sense of humour?" Riordan groused "He certainly is bloody laughing now." In the darkness Duncan grinned. "You're grinning, aren't you? I can see your teeth you swarthy bastard." Duncan clamped his mouth shut.

The next day started nice and clear but as it progressed the pale cloud cover thickened and grew darker. Riordan kept scowling at the sky and Duncan could barely refrain from laughing. As they set up camp in the rapidly approaching dusk, a breeze brought the smell of rain and the air felt heavier. Duncan cared for the horses as Riordan struggled manfully with lighting the fire so they at least could have some tea. Having managed to coax some flames out of the wood he went to fetch water whilst Duncan stuffed their gear into the tent. You didn't need to be a ranger to know the weather was changing again.

The two men sat in thoughtful silence sipping tea and chewing on some rather tasteless smoked meat when the first drops fell from the sky. "Makers sodding balls!" Riordan growled and gave Duncan a dirty look. The other man shrugged keeping his face carefully neutral. Their evening meal was effectively cut short as the heavens opened and they had to dash for the tent. The fire hissed, spluttered and went out.

Riordan jerked awake. For a moment he was disoriented, ready to lash out at the first thing within reach with the dagger that he now held in his hand. After a few shaky breaths he realised that it was just another Taint dream. Putting the dagger away he leaned his elbows on his knees, covered his head with his arms and willed himself to calm down. He winced at the smell of tainted sweat.

"A bad one?" The disembodied voice at his side made him jump. He had completely forgotten where he was. He answered as neutrally as he could.

"No worse than for most of us."

"If you say so." He could tell from the silence that the other man was on the verge of speaking again but hesitated. In turn Riordan bit back the nasty remark he had intended to end the conversation with.

"It's been quite some time since our joining. You haven't learned to block them yet?" Duncan sounded curious.

"Yes I have! I do this for my and your entertainment!" Riordan snapped; enough was enough.

Suddenly a nearly full moon broke through the clouds and painted pale grey contours over the interior of the tent. The other man was sitting calmly looking at him. "Here." He was handed a canteen which he gratefully accepted. He sniffed the contents which nearly made his eyes water.

"You're serious? You got the good stuff?" Riordan drank deeply before dragging his hand through his hair. "I wish I had known of this particular quirk before volunteering." he admitted.

"Volunteering? I always assumed you were conscripted." Duncan blurted.

Riordan's handed back the canteen. "Everyone does, but no, I actually volunteered."

"Whatever for?"

"Because I wanted to dedicate my life to the salvation of humanity and all other races," Riordan deadpanned. He could see the other man struggling to frame a reply that would neither make him seem gullible nor offensive. Riordan realised he wasn't the only one trying to walk the line, time to put an end to the man's misery then. His mouth twitched. "You didn't really fall for that did you? I made a bet I would be accepted, seemed a good idea at the time."

He could see the white of the other man's teeth as he grinned. "You must have been completely sloshed."

"Of course! But then, so was the warden who requited me. We got along famously. I regretted it the instant I woke, or rather the instant I remembered."

"At the Joining I remember being amazed at how calm you were."

Riordan snorted. "Only because I was so hung over I was afraid to move my head in case it fell off. Couldn't wait for a chance to die from that cup. You?"

"I was last and scared shitless."

Riordan guffawed at the image. "No, truly?"

Duncan smiled a slow smile looking at his hands that rested in his lap. "That's Andraste's own truth, I was conscripted, I was afraid, I hated it."

Riordan sat silent. That was one of the things he had come to appreciate about Duncan, this no-nonsense attitude and a good instinct for when to keep his trap shut. He almost felt a twinge of regret. It faded as he felt another drop from the sodden tent land on his neck. "You lucky piece of shit." he muttered.

Next day the sky was clear and a bright freshly washed sun was shining. As the men crawled out of the tent Riordan shot Duncan a glare full of poison but held his tongue. They struck camp in silence, not bothering trying to re-kindle the sodden mess that was left of the fire from yesterday.

As they finally left the jagged peaks of the northern end of the Frostbacks behind them, the chill winds turned warm. It was early afternoon when they stopped for the day. The sun was hot and the air still, a perfect opportunity to dry out their damp gear. Duncan didn't comment as Riordan threw his bedding down and went to sleep without a word. Instead he set up the tent, fetched firewood and got some water from the small stream nearby. He groaned in despair as he caught his horse rolling on the still damp ground with every sign of enjoyment. It would take bloody ages to glean the muck of the animal now. Later, as he was fishing the missives out of his bag, the other man woke. "What are you doing?" Riordan yawned.

"What does it look like? I'm going to see if I can get a look at these." Duncan turned the package with the missives over in his hands.

"No good. I've already tried. They have sealed them too well." Riordan stretched to root around for the food bags.

"Hm." Duncan bent over to examine the cylinder more closely. Difficult but not impossible, he smiled as after a few heartbeats, the seal came away unbroken.

"Bloody blight, how did you do that?" Riordan exclaimed with grudging admiration.

"Aha, secrets of the trade." Duncan started to read.

"Well." Riordan asked impatiently after a while. "Anything interesting?"

"Hold your horses; this stuff is bloody hard to read. Why the Blight do they insist on using fancy writing?" With a growl of frustration Duncan tossed the missives at a startled Riordan. "Here, see what you make of them." Riordan looked at them and then at Duncan.

"You can't read these?" he said incredulously. Duncan's brown skin turned an impressive brick red and he said defensively,

"Sure I can, but it would take bloody ages."

"Seriously?" It was Riordan's turn to grin.

Yeah, yeah, I'm not great at reading OK? It's not as if I had much of an opportunity to learn when I lived in the Val. So what does it say? Anything good?"

"Nah, just the usual. We can't send you money, we can't send you men. Tough shit basically."

Duncan shrugged. "Figures. So," he continued, "shall we spice it up a bit?" There was an answering glitter in the other man's eyes.

"Oh yes! And I know just the thing! But let me do it. "If your handwriting is as bad as your reading it'll look like a lyrium hooked spider crawled over the paper.

"I suppose yours is much better?"

"Definitely! That's the benefit of having your letters beaten into you with a stick at a tender age."

When Duncan had carefully restored the seals Riordan clapped him on the back. "Neatly done! But I still think we should have added that suggestion about the Korcari Wilds."

"No, no, that would have been too obvious, it's much better this way!"

"Hm, perhaps you are right, here!" Riordan handed his canteen to Duncan, who took a draught, careful to keep a straight face as the liquid burned a fiery path down his throat.

"So you got beaten with a stick." Duncan raised an eyebrow at the other man as he passed the liquor back.

"Knew that would appeal to you!" Riordan reclaimed the canteen and toasted him before drinking.


	9. The tainted dreams

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5**  
><strong>

**Disclamer: **Don't own anything except a vivid imagination**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>The Tainted Dreams<strong>

"Enough!" Duncan struck out at his tent mate who had woken him with his thrashing. As Riordan jerked upright Duncan shoved him again. "I've had it with you!" This was the third night in a row and he was all out of patience. Duncan expected and was half longing for a fight; he was surprised when the other man ignored him and kept drawing shuddering breaths. In the dim light of the summer pre-dawn he could see Riordan's hand shaking as he ineffectively pawed at strands of hair stuck to his sweaty face. The stink of tainted sweat was sour in his nostrils. "Learn to block like everyone else, a bleeding child can do it!" Without a word Riordan tossed aside his blanket and stumbled out of the tent almost taking half the canvas with him.

What the Blight do you think you're doing?" Duncan yelled after him, trying to catch the tent pole. Once it had been firmly secured he peered out into the grey half-light and listened. Some sort of bird was hooting far away and there was a distant splashing. He sniffed the air, it smelled early and damp. The tender shoots of friendship that had started to grow when they embellished the missives had wilted quickly after a row of nights with interrupted sleep. They were back in non-speaking hostile territory.

That had not stopped Duncan from drawing his own conclusions about his companion, some he knew from before. Riordan was more than competent with a bow, probably better than Duncan with a throwing knife though Duncan was the better dual-wielder and in hand to hand he judged it to be touch and go. When in a dark mood the man had a vicious temper paired with a vicious mouth, any of which could be his undoing. Other things he had just discovered; Riordan slept as one dead or not at all and there was something fishy about his background. He also had a blatant disregard for authority and a wicked sense of humour, which Duncan liked despite himself.

Duncan had found it easy from the start to catch emotions and thoughts through the taint; his companion meanwhile, was useless at it. During training all he could manage was to dump an erratic and unpleasant sensation into the target with a force to make them wince. Meanwhile he professed to receive nothing at all. This made Riordan one of the least desirable partners in the group. Only Roland had the patience and even he seemed discouraged at times. Duncan could pinpoint not only Darkspawn with ease but also occasionally catch emotions that others tried to hide. He had also discovered that he was able to send subtle suggestions to others that they were unaware of. To Duncan this stank of the kind of manipulation that Blood Mages were rumoured to use, so he kept in mind that it could be used against him but otherwise let it be, then again...maybe...

By the time the other man returned, Duncan had managed to calm down. He regarded Riordan in silence; the man was soaking wet, only now he smelled of water. Duncan couldn't imagine how anyone would willingly get into unknown waters when it was almost dark; surely it was another proof that the man wasn't of an entirely sound mind. He noted that he looked exhausted, ready to collapse any moment. Feeling a bit guilty he asked in a conciliatory tone. "Better?" A grunt was the only reply. Riordan laid down with his back turned but Duncan could feel he was as tense as a drawn bow.

"Really, you should learn to block them out. It's no big deal."

"Shut your bloody mouth or I'll do it for you!" The words came out in muffled growl.

"That's clever; push away the only person around that can help you! But that's all you're good for isn't it?" With some trepidation Duncan saw the other man slowly sit up, there was danger there and he could feel it as keenly as a blade held at his throat. Riordan's hands opened and closed as if in cramp but he made no further move. Peering through the gloom Duncan thought he saw something very much like desperation on the man's face and latched on to that.

"Come on! It's not that hard, I'll show you the basics and you can take it from there."

"How?" It was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"It's all in your head."

"Forget it! I'm not having you or anyone snooping around in my brain."

"I would do nothing like that! What do I care what's in your sick mind anyway? I just need a few good nights' sleep," Duncan hesitated, "and so do you."

Riordan regarded him intently before sighing. "And how exactly do you propose to help?"

"I will try to show the pattern I use to block the dreams. If you can copy it you can use it to keep other Wardens out as well." That got Riordan's attention all right, now Duncan was really curious to know what the man was hiding.

Riordan rubbed his palms across his face and sounded resigned. "Alright, show me then." Duncan sat up and kneeled facing the other man. He sent a tendril of thought into Riordan's mind and found nothing. He tried harder but it was like scratching at a ball of iron with your fingernails. Irritated he gave up.

"I can't get through, you're not even trying. With that block, how come you can't keep the dreams out?"

"How the Blight do I know?" Riordan threw up his hands in an exasperated gesture. "Makers balls, I hate this!"

"Well, try harder! You're not a complete moron." Duncan wracked his brain. "Here take my hand; physical contact always strengthens the link." Riordan eyed him warily before moving closer, extending his hand carefully as if afraid Duncan might burn him. Again Duncan reached out with his thoughts, the bond was much stronger now. His mind flowed through the maze that was Riordan's mind, whilst he pushed against the slippery walls that Riordan didn't even seem to be aware were there. Suddenly he felt the surface yield slightly; he threw everything he had at it only to be thrown back.

"I'm too tired to concentrate." Riordan caught himself with his free hand to stop from keeling over. Duncan thought the man must be worse off than he had suspected and suddenly he was struck by inspiration.

"That's the key, don't, just relax, I was nearly there!"

Riordan snatched back his hand and glared bleary eyed at Duncan as he straightened. "I can't do that!"

"Why not? I've seen you falling asleep on the spot lots of times, even on horseback. Frankly I'm quite envious."

"It's impossible now."

"Why?"

"I don't trust you that's why! How do I know you won't just wade in?" Riordan blurted out. Duncan could feel the man immediately regretting his words; it was an admittance of weakness.

"Come on, you're no coward and I'm not out to get you or do anything fishy. I've already told you, I just want a night of undisturbed sleep, that's all. We all did the same to learn."

Riordan seemed to weigh this over in his mind before saying reluctantly, "I'll give it one shot, one mind you, at the first sign of anything tricky you're dead." They both lay down. Riordan took Duncan's hand and closed his eyes. "I feel like an idiot." He murmured.

Duncan sniggered. "Vittorio should see us know, he would get all excited."

There was a thoughtful pause from Riordan. "You noticed?"

"All that preaching and ranting has to hide something, also I saw him come back from town once, with one of the recruits, don't know his name, made a load of noise and they sure weren't sparring. You were trying to out snore Roland so you wouldn't have noticed.

"Maker's breath, how is that supposed to help? Now all I can think of is that idiot!"

"Once I saw you sleep with an arrow in your leg. How hard can it be?"

"An arrow is like a sedative compared to Vittorio." With a visible effort Riordan exhaled. "Just shut up and do your stuff."

Once again Duncan found himself hovering carefully over the surface of Riordan's mind. He prodded and added pressure until it suddenly gave under him like night old ice, he was in. Carefully avoiding any excursions; the persistent sound of a crying woman somewhere in the distance was quite enough, he let his thoughts flow over Riordan as he displayed the pattern he used to fend of the dreams. It felt like adjusting the stance of a novice fighter. He waited for some sort of confirmation but it never came; either Riordan wasn't trying or simply wasn't able too. Eventually Duncan withdrew and rolled over on his side. "Did you get it?" The other man nodded. Duncan grinned with relief. "That wasn't so hard was it?"

Riordan blinked but remained staring up at the tent roof. "Maybe not." He was silent for a moment before he said as if with an effort, "Thank you, if this works I owe you a great deal." 'Wow, that must have cost quite a bit' Duncan thought. Riordan's eyes closed again and he let out a deep breath. "Maker I hope this works, but Duncan, just in case you left some sort of backdoor open or anything... I'll know it was you."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Duncan protested, was the man a bleedin mind-reader all of a sudden?

"Now you won't anyway." Riordan turned his back on him again and was instantly asleep.

The sun was high in the sky when Duncan finally felt he couldn't wait any longer and had to wake his companion.

He moved around to the back opening of the tent and carefully touched Riordan's leg. "Um, Riordan?" It was anybody's guess how this would go. The man could simply wake up, or Duncan could get a dagger in the eye. With a groan Riordan rolled over and blinked at him as if in surprise before suddenly grinning.

"Blight and blood, that worked like a charm, I could almost kiss you you little mind-mugger."

Duncan grinned back. "Thank you but I'll pass. You keep away from me and I might let you live. Come on, I've made breakfast, or something."

They ate in surprisingly amicable silence as the sun warmed them. Riordan prodded the grey mess that was supposed to be porridge looking questioningly at Duncan who shrugged and smiled before wolfing down his own portion. It was warm and filled his stomach, which was more than one could say about a lot of his meals in the past. He caught Riordan eyeing him curiously at one point but pretended not to notice. He felt like they were two combatants circling each other whilst carefully considering the option of a truce.

"You know I'm sure the horses won't mind waiting for you to finish that disgusting stuff you call porridge in your own time and I'm certainly not going to steal it." Riordan's voice was wry.

Duncan scraped the bowl clean. "Old habits. Used to have to be quick if I found something to eat. Saw a girl stab one of my mates once when he tried to nick her bread. He bled like a pig, squealed like one too." He grinned and licked his spoon. Riordan's eyebrows disappeared into his hair line but he didn't comment.

When Duncan returned from washing the dishes he noticed that Riordan had prepared both horses, perhaps as a peace offering.

Riordan was in an uncharacteristically bright mood all day. They swapped stories and observations, both carefully dancing around anything too personal. Deciding that it was now or never if he ever wanted to break through some of the walls Riordan had erected, Duncan pushed his luck a little bit further. "Surely being with the Wardens isn't all bad, I mean there are some good people there." Riordan quirked an eyebrow at him and he threw up his hands. "Fine fine, maybe not you but others..." He smiled to take the edge of the words.

Riordan huffed. "Vittorio is a full-blooded asshole, with bells on. Amaury is so dumb he couldn't outwit a sheep. Josian and Renna are the kind who would turn on you in a heartbeat if they got the order from above."

"And you wouldn't?" Duncan asked curiously.

"I'd kill the man who gave the order." Duncan glanced incredulously at the other man. Riordan guffawed. "Don't think I'm getting sweet on you or anything, but I'm not dumb. You and Roland are the only ones worth keeping. If someone gave me an order like that, something would have to be seriously wrong."

"Hm, thank you, I guess." Duncan almost tumbled over the neck of his horse as it skidded on the steep downward path. Cursing he pushed himself upright as the docile animal slowly came to a halt. To his surprise Riordan sat off and caught his horse's bridle.

"As amusing as it is to watch you try to sit your horse like a chair, this ends now." Riordan moved around to the side of the horse and began to extend the length of his stirrups. "Here," he grabbed Duncan's foot and shoved it into the stirrup, "just as far as the ball of your foot and push your heel down, like that," Duncan did, it felt very odd yet right, "and don't lean forward in a slope, lean back, keep your back straight and use your knees as support too. This is a good horse, knows his job." Duncan enviously watched the other man effortlessly get back in the saddle despite the sidestepping of his mount, another bad one but this time it wasn't Duncan's fault. He decided to watch how Riordan rode, more closely.

"I noticed you didn't place yourself in that line up of undesirables." He said jokingly.

"What for? You've already done that, I'm the misfit." Duncan craned his head to see if the other man was smiling but he was too far ahead.


	10. The falling out

**A note**: A joint effort with Gaspode5

**Disclaimer:** Nah, already done many times...

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><p><strong>The falling out<strong>

Satisfied that the fire had caught properly, Duncan leaned back against his pack turning his face to the evening sun. The fire was not lit for warmth, but to keep away any predator interested in the remains of the Roe deer Riordan was skinning. Covered with blood up to his elbows, the man knelt by the carcass and made quick slashes along the side to work the skin loose.

Since Duncan had helped his fellow Warden block his Taint dreams, their relationship had grown increasingly relaxed. He had made no attempts to further stretch the boundaries of this new companionship they both seemed to have silently agreed on, but then, neither had Riordan.

"This is a nice piece, pity we can't take it with us," Riordan observed, holding the dripping hide to the sun. Duncan glanced over.

"Yeah, it'll stink worse than you in a couple of days."

Riordan smirked. "So, I'll race you to the other side of the river and back and then we'll both smell rosy and perhaps the whores won't run screaming when they see your ugly mug," he suggested slyly.

"No way, you'll win; I'm a lousy swimmer. Anyway, it's not me having gore all over my face." He knew the moment he said it that it was a mistake.

"You do now!" Riordan shouted and before the other man could duck away he swung the sodden pelt around. It hit Duncan hard in the face rocking him backwards. His opponent grabbed the chance and rubbed it well in before shoving his foot against Duncan's chest, sending him toppling. With that head-start Riordan took off towards the water while Duncan was still struggling out of the humid, copper smelling slime.

"Makers sodding balls!" Came the muffled curses from underneath the pelt before Duncan could claw it aside. He spat, "I'll kill you for this! I really am!"

"Promises, promises!" Riordan shouted while removing what he could of his clothing on the run. Duncan was on his feet now and gaining fast enough that his target had to dive into the river with one boot and leggings still on to avoid getting caught. Riordan emerged from the water with an oath and a nasty scratch on his neck. "There's a sodding tree submerged right there."

Duncan laughed; he suddenly realized that he wasn't angry but happy. For once he could set aside the restraints he had placed on himself; perhaps because his companion seemed to have very few. "I may be a lousy swimmer but I run faster!" Duncan called out. He had to duck to avoid Riordan's boot that came flying through the air, while removing his own clothes.

Riordan tried to launch his leggings the same way but they fell short and were now happily drifting downstream and out of sight. "Blight!"

"I do hope you have another pair." Duncan shouted gleefully as his opponent followed them. He took his time getting into the water, washing the blood off while keeping an eye out for the other man.

His ability to sense the taint saved him as he felt the tell-tale tug in his chest. He dove sideways as Riordan quietly slipped out of the water right behind him. The other man's hand found only air but wasn't daunted by this though and as Duncan splashed upright he felt wet heavy cloth wrap around his neck. Riordan yanked him backwards with his make shift snare and Duncan had just enough time to take a big gulp of air before water closed over his head.

There was a moment of panic but he ignored it and twisted in the loose grip of the leggings. There was no point actually trying to see anything in the silt clouded water but it was easy enough to locate Riordan and instead of trying to break loose, Duncan simply used the cloth to pull himself close.

He wrapped himself around his companion's waist and legs using his own weight to unbalance him. He hooked one leg around the back of the man's knees and Riordan sank backwards into the water. Grinning Duncan pushed him down further for good measure when suddenly his left eye exploded in pain. Riordan had pushed his thumb into it. He released the other man and stumbled backwards spluttering. "Maker's fucking balls!"

Riordan emerged some way out, Duncan halted at the wild look of hatred in his eyes. He blinked furiously to clear his vision but the injured eye wouldn't focus and it felt like it was on fire. He turned and headed for the shore. "You're insane!" he muttered and tried to suppress the fear that sank trough him.

"What...shit. Duncan!"

"Fuck you!"

Duncan had to let go of his eye in order to pull his pants on. The pain was still excruciating and he could barely open it because of the rapidly increasing swelling, his anger burned hotter. Even so, what smarted the most was that he had almost been lulled into believing some kind of friendship with the other man was possible, he knew better now.

Riordan pulled on the discarded wet clothes with jerky moves and an angry frown on his face. "I didn't mean to hurt you that bad, I'm sorry! It just…Makers balls!" the man sounded frustrated.

"I said, fuck you! You're no better than bloody Vittorio. You're both first class bullies."

Riordans head whipped round as if he had been hit. "That is how you see me?"

"That is not how I _see_ you, that is what you _are_." Duncan retorted, there was blood on his fingers. Would his eye ever be right again?

"Yes, yes maybe you are right." the other man crouched on the shore keeping a safe distance. "I never thought of it that way."

"Feel free to start right now, asshole!" Duncan stomped over to his gear and began to rummage through it when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Anger, reflex and not a little bit of fear made him react. The chocked surprise in Riordan's face when he saw the dagger thrust into his bicep must have been mirrored in Duncan's own. In stunned silence he watched as Riordan reached for the blade with a puzzled frown on his face before slipping to the ground without a sound.

Duncan's heart raced and his first instinct was to run.

_There's so much blood. How can anybody contain that amount of blood? The metallic stench of it clogs Duncan's nostrils. He pushes and pushes at the wound but the blood just keeps flowing through his fingers, warm and slippery. He sobs in panic and flinches when a slack hand lands on his arm. He lifts his eyes and looks into the man's face. His eyes are glassy and his lips white. There's a wet rasping in his chest and he whispers, "Thank you." The hand falls away and Duncan stares down at the empty shell that was a man only moments ago._

That wasn't who he was anymore though. Instead he bent down; surely he could not have hurt the man that much? He had seen Riordan take considerable damage without fuss before. The dagger he had used had no poison on it but he checked it again just to be sure. He felt for Riordan's pulse which was steady. If he didn't know better he'd have thought the man had fainted. When he noticed Riordan coming to, he felt enormous relief but moved back just in case. He waited until the man had opened his eyes. 'What's wrong with you?'

Riordan began to sit up. He ran his hands across his face, before examining the wound. "You mean, apart from the obvious?" He answered in a hollow voice pressing a hand to it.

Duncan stood. "You are too bloody weird. Just, keep away from me."

"I will."


	11. The court of Ferelden

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5.

* * *

><p><strong>The Court of Ferelden<strong>

Cailan skidded around the corner as he hurried for the throne room. Normally nothing would appeal to him less than one of his father's court sessions. Lately the seneschal had insisted that it was time he attended at least some events to show himself and get acquainted with the nobility he would one day rule. As if he was interested in getting to know any of the stuffy old coots and he cared even less for the ladies with their glances and whisperings of 'poor motherless child' which only served to remind him of that he was. He had no real memories of his mother and the whispers made him feel that he ought to. Today though, was different.

He also needed to get away from Anora. She had beaten him again at that stupid board game she insisted they play. Still, tossing it out the window might have been a bad idea. The fight it had started ended up with him threatening to have his father send her away. That had made her scream at him that he could never do that since HER father was the Hero of River Dane and he had told her they were to be married and you couldn't send a wife away. Cailan had shouted back that HIS father was the King and he could do whatever he wanted. At that point she had run off in a temper, probably to rat him out to her father. Triumphant Cailan had stuck his tongue out after her. Sadly he would soon be forced to apologise. He must ask father if he really had to marry Anora. He could think of worse things but even so. She might be able to beat him at her stupid game but he could still wrestle her down easily and that's what counted anyway.

He knew he should have taken time to get into some fancier clothing but he was afraid he would get caught and forced to comb his hair and wash his face, which might make him too late to catch sight of what he was really looking for, the new Grey Wardens.

Not that there was anything wrong with Gregory and the others, but they were quite old and priggish, not like the Wardens in the books his father had given him. He had caught a glimpse from the window of these new ones, from Orlais no less. Uncle Loghain would probably throw a fit, which was good. Then he might not have the time to listen to Anora's complaints. Now where were these Wardens?

The throne room was full of people all dressed up and everybody was too intent on father to pay any attention to Cailan. Nevertheless he stopped and hid behind a pillar while scanning the crowd. There! They were perfect just like he had imagined. Of course they weren't allowed weapons in here, a pity. They were both much younger than Gregory, with dark long hair. One of them was really swarthy and had a ponytail, he looked like a Rivaini pirate, did the Wardens recruit pirates? Of course they did. He had a black eye which was strange, surely a recent Darkspawn fight Cailan reasoned, pleased with that conclusion. The other one was probably an assassin he decided; he had watchful eyes that searched the room. The pirate was just hailed by his father. Uh oh, better back away a bit or else father would spot Calian's rather shabby appearance. He turned his attention to the assassin Warden, perhaps he could sneak a closer look at him but to his disappointment, as he approached the assassin got captured by Lady Maryam, a person Cailan genuinely disliked. She was married to old Bann Leofrik but Cailan had noticed that she kept standing too close to his father when she thought no one saw. She also kept going on about that he needed a new mother. No he didn't, He needed a bigger horse!

Father was ushering the pirate out of the hall and for a moment Cailan was torn between following them or the assassin. A quick glance told him that the assassin's attention was on Lady Maryam who with nasty smiles was luring him to her lair on the balcony where she usually dragged father for little chats. By the look of things nothing interesting would be happening there, so Cailan scurried after the pirate instead. He caught sight of him as the man followed father into the Burgundy reception room. This was going to be tricky, Cailan couldn't just sneak through the doors after them, but here was a servants' access...

It was dusty here; nobody bothered cleaning these little back passages and stairwells. Cailan sneezed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, it was already dirty anyway. He carefully nudged the door open behind the drapes. He could hear his father.

"Here try this, I get it from Orzammar. Should help you forget that shiner you've got here. What happened?"

"It's nothing." That was obviously the pirate. He had a deep voice and spoke very softly. There was the sound of a stifled cough.

"Strong stuff eh, packs quite a punch, never figured out what they make it from and I probably don't want to know, but still, it's nice and smooth. So...have you heard anything from ...her?"

"Only once but you know what she's like."

"I guess so, I just wish..."

"Your majesty…"

"Please, not you! I'd like to believe we at least are past that." There was a pleading note in father's voice.

"Of course. I thought I should tell you I haven't been able to visit the boy but I'm planning to on my way back to Orlais." Now what boy would that be, Cailan wondered? It couldn't be him since he was here.

"I understand. Probably just as well, I don't want any attention on him. I've seen him once, he's healthy, that's all I can say. At least he's being cared for but I'd like to do so much more. Perhaps in time...Won't your colleague be suspicious?"

There was a slight pause, "I'll handle him."

"You don't like him."

"He's a...Brother."

There was a smile in father's voice when he spoke. "You've become taciturn; soon you'll be like Loghain."

"Maker forefend!" Cailan almost laughed at the thought of the pirate being anything like the steely eyed grump uncle Loghain. Father chuckled.

This was boring though, no talk about fighting Darkspawn or anything. Cailan leaned against the wall letting the muffled words flow over him. He contemplated going back to see if the assassin had managed to escape Lady Maryam's clutches but his ears picked up father's change of tone and he realised the pirate was getting ready to leave, finally!

"I need to return, it will look strange otherwise and Loghain will no doubt start ranting about Orlesian plots."

"Of course."

"I'm glad though that you came, it's good to see you again. You know there will always be a place for you here amongst the Ferelden Wardens. Gregory is a solid man but quite frankly he's a bit stodgy, they could use some fresh blood."

"Thank you, the order will certainly consider it."

The voices faded and Cailan hurried towards the door that would take him out of the servant's passage. Back in the hallway he saw the two men head for the throne room. He waited until they were out of sight before making a run for the great double doors. He managed to just miss two guards and grinning to himself he slunk into the room and behind a pillar.

He couldn't see the assassin anywhere and apparently neither could the pirate who was wandering around looking irritated. Cailan moved through the shadows in the direction of the balcony, perhaps Lady Maryam still held the assassin in her grasp. If so, help was on the way since the pirate was heading there too. Sadly there was no way Cailan would be able to sneak out there to see what was happening so he gritted his teeth and waited.

Soon enough the pirate reappeared with the assassin in tow. The pirate looked angry and to Cailan's distress headed straight towards him. He crouched in the shadows and watched the stony faced man stalk past; he looked mean but luckily didn't see Cailan. The assassin passed, looking amused but none the worse for wear, his eyes darted towards Cailan but he didn't stop. Cailan followed hurriedly, things were looking up. The men disappeared around a bend in the corridor as he left the main hall and he nearly ran into them as he hurried to catch up. They'd stopped and were standing almost nose to nose. Quickly he dodged behind a large vas and listened as the pirate spoke in an angry almost whisper.

"If you could stop thinking with your cock once in a while. These women have contacts, their _husbands_ have contacts. Piss any of them off and it's trouble for the Wardens."

This was better than spying on the guards. Cailan giggled with glee and clamped his hands over his mouth. The assassin sounded unperturbed when he spoke. "There's a servant brat shadowing us so if you're planning to break my face you might want to wait."

'_Drat!' _Cailan looked around for some sort of bolt hole but found himself at a loss.

"Where?"

"He's hiding behind the urn." Both men turned and looked. Cailan ducked down but it was too late.

"That's the prince you moron!" The pirate hissed.

"Doesn't look it. Are you sure? Isn't he supposed to wear a crown or something?"

As Cailan peered out from behind the urn he saw the pirate head towards him. He didn't look angry now. "Your highness, can we help you?"

'_Ah well',_ he conceded defeat and stepped forward. "You're Wardens."

The pirate crouched down and smiled. "Indeed your highness, I'm Duncan, the one over there is Riordan." He nodded towards the assassin.

Duncan was a familiar name. "Father has talked about you, says you're a really good fighter and you've killed lots of Darkspawn."

Duncan's smile grew wider. "Did he now?" The assassin looked surprised but said nothing.

Cailan could barely contain his excitement. He was talking to real Wardens and not grumpy old geezers like Gregory. "Can I see your sword, er...please?"

"I don't have it with me right now. Your father wouldn't be happy if I went around with a sword in here."

"But what happens if there is a Blight?"

"Then I'll get my sword straight away." Duncan said firmly, the other Warden snorted.

"Did a Darkspawn do that?" Cailan pointed at the dark bruise that ringed Duncan's slightly blood shot eye.

"As a matter of fact yes, a great dumb ugly Ogre."

"Did you kill it?"

"It'll never bother me again." Duncan shot a glance towards the assassin.

"Oh wow!" Cailan suddenly had an idea. "If I go with you, then you can get your sword and show me."

Duncan straightened and with a small bow and another smile he said, "Lead the way your highness."

The sword was amazing! Duncan let Cailan hold it even though he couldn't lift it for long. He asked to see the assassin's sword but he just gave a smile full of teeth and looked even more dangerous as he said, "Trust me, your highness, after seeing the sword of the mighty Duncan I really don't think there's any point in showing you mine, I just couldn't compete."

So Cailan took them to see his collection of Warden Statuettes. Duncan was suitably impressed and studied the figurines closely. The one named Riordan turned over a Hurlock Emissary in his hand. "I think I found you Duncan," he said grinning.

Cailan laughed. "Silly, that's a Darkspawn, all the Wardens are over here." He indicated the carefully placed army of Wardens at the foot of a green hill made from painted wood.

"At least you have a Gryphon." Riordan prodded the figurine.

"Oh, I'll get more soon. They didn't use to make them but father asked if they could. This is the first one, he's called Killer, soon all the Wardens will have one. It'll be brilliant!"

Duncan was clearly impressed. He bent over the table and frowned. "You need more Wardens here." He pointed at two Wardens facing some Genlocks.

Cailan huffed. "They're only Genlocks."

"Ah but don't let their small stature fool you. They're just as strong and even faster than the Bugeyes. Some of them are very sneaky." He winked.

"Bugeyes?"

Duncan looked a bit taken aback then he smiled. "Oh, we call the Hurlocks Bugeyes. The Genlocks are Roaches because they swarm you and the Ogres are Splatters."

Cailan looked from the Warden to one of the Hurlock figurines; they really had big bulging eyes in their skull like faces, but the Ogres... "Splatters?"

"Because anybody stupid enough to get caught by an Ogre goes splat." Riordan sniggered.

"Wow." Now Cailan knew all the special Warden names for the enemy. He hoarded this treasure of information like a miser his gold.

Duncan gave the other man an irritated glance before picking up the Emissary. "Now these are the most dangerous. Their magic can take out many men with just the one spell. You always kill the Emissary first."

They spent some time discussing strategy. The other Warden hovered for a bit before disappearing out into the hallway again. Eventually though, Duncan had to go, he looked sad when he said so. Cailan was in no hurry to return to the throne room, he wanted to try out these new strategies. Despite his excitement he remembered his manners, just, and followed Duncan to the door.

The Warden bowed. "Until we meet again your highness." He smiled and his teeth looked really white. Definitely a Rivaini pirate. When Cailan was King he would make Duncan General of the Wardens, but perhaps he would be too old then.

Before closing the door he heard Riordan say, "So, we've admired your enormous sword, what next?"

"What's next is you stay away from that woman!"

"Do I look stupid? That one is high maintenance!"

"Just stay close, shut up and smile!


	12. The way to Play Nice

**A Note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

**Disclaimer:** Nothing new...

* * *

><p><strong>The way to play nice<strong>

The pressure Riordan had felt building inside since they hit Denerim was starting to subside thanks to whatever her name was and the strong booze he had bought in the bar. His fingers were getting slightly numb, a feeling he had been longing for. The numbness made the demons lose their grip on him; he could almost feel them falling away with piteous screams. Not so long ago he wouldn't have hesitated to give them free rein, the best way to get them out of his system was feeding them blood and pain, but he found himself holding back.

He was getting soft, no doubt about that. Why else did it bother him, at least occasionally, that Duncan was hardly speaking to him since that day at the river; he never used to care about such things. And he certainly didn't understand why Duncan had elected to come with him tonight. He had only asked because he was sure he would refuse. The man probably decided to join him just to minimize any damage Riordan might cause the Order's reputation. He couldn't give a shit about the Order but he'd found himself distressingly hesitant to cement the opinion his fellow Warden currently had of him.

The Broken Goblet reminded Riordan of the place where Duncan had come to collect him for what seemed like an eternity ago. It was full of people trying very hard to get drunk with a minimum of fuss. The tavern stank of quiet despair, bad ale and rotten straw, the kind of place where nobody who valued their life asked questions, not even for the time of day. He absentmindedly noticed that Duncan had left his side to stride up to a not-so-well-disguised noble that was slumming it. Riordan shook his head; no doubt he was going to advice the man to seek safer pastures. That was simply the way he was, the sanctimonious prick.

Riordan was still ruminating about his fellow Warden when Duncan, lets-play-nice-and-kiss-ass-Duncan, smoothly slit the throat of the noble. Without taking his eyes of the scene Riordan reached for his bottle of spirits and downed as much as he could without choking. His colleague was staring calmly down at the spray of blood coming from his victim's throat, making it easy for Riordan to smash the bottle over his head. As the man collapsed Riordan gestured at the bystanders with the broken remainder.

"It's all right good folks. As you can see I have everything in hand, you may go about your business, in fact, I recommend you do! You there, help me get this mess out the door." He waved the bottle at a rough looking fellow he had singled out earlier as a potential target to pick a fight with. The man wasn't impressed until Riordan jingled his money pouch with a suggestive grin, before he, with a grunt hoisted his fellow Warden up and left the thug to deal with the messy body of the stranger.

As they reached the river front Riordan tensed, '_Any moment now_' and almost laughed out loud as the thug dropped the corpse on the ground and grunted, "Payment, now!" He was apparently a man of few words.

Riordan propped Duncan against a wall and wasn't surprised when he felt the prick of a knife against his neck. "How about you..." The thug didn't get any further as Riordan spun; catching his arm and slammed the dagger he had slipped from his boot into the man's gut. A sharp hiss escaped the thug as he folded over the knife. Blood flowed warmly over Riordan's hand as he gave the knife a sharp tug before shoving the body off, now he was a man of ever fewer words. Riordan shook his head; some people were just so predictable. The same however, could not be said about Duncan.

Duncan was slowly coming to as Riordan dragged the body of his companion's mystery victim over to a fire vacated by the destitute that had set up home on the river bank. He shoved the corpse in, head first, putting his foot on the back of the head to ensure that the face was nicely buried in the flames. There was a sickening smell of burning meat and hair. He looted it whilst waiting and tossed any identifiers in the river, pocketing the coins. Finally the body with the now unrecognisable face followed it's belongings into the water.

He let the other body lie. The scoundrel would most likely not have met a natural death anyway and it was unlikely his absence would even be noticed. The thought of how close Riordan had been to become such a man gave him pause. Not long ago he wouldn't have cared, now the thought made him uneasy. He shook his head.

A few stray dogs on the riverbank watched the activities with interest. _'Enjoy! Dinner coming up downstream in a week or two_.' Riordan thought as he threw some rocks in their direction to discourage them from trying to grab an early bite. Duncan was sitting up now, holding his head in his hands. Riordan bent to clean himself off while he spoke. "Come on, let's get out of here." The other man didn't stir.

"Come on!" he urged again, a bit irritated now, grabbing the arm of his colleague. Duncan unfolded himself and began to follow slowly as if in a daze. Riordan understood nothing of what had happened, least of all his own reaction. He should have been silently gloating over Duncan's fall from grace, what was wrong with him? Maybe the black bastard had done something to his mind after all.

When they reached the Warden compound he rapped the still dazed man sharply behind the ear with the handle of his knife, he went down without a sound. With a wince he noticed that Duncan was splattered with blood, not much but enough to cause suspicion. With only a slight hesitation Riordan made a cut in the back of his head. That would bleed nicely. Swallowing back a wave of queasiness he took some time to let it do its work before he dragged the man across the threshold. They were met by one of the older Wardens who glared at them disapprovingly.

"We were warned that one of you might be trouble but I assumed it was you." The Warden said with a frown.

Riordan smirked. "Me, what gave you that idea? I'm the straight laced one. Give me a hand here will you? Fereldan brew doesn't agree with everyone."

With the help of the other Warden they got Duncan back to their room and on to the bed. Riordan ushered out the Senior Warden, perhaps a little too brusquely, but that could not be helped. He had no idea what this strange new Duncan would do or say once he woke.

He went to the cabinet where he kept some dwarven spirits hidden, just in case. He took a draught from the bottle before exhaling. This had been a weird night. The surge of fright had effectively driven any restlessness from him. Smiling to himself he poured himself a glass. At the sound of a groan he filled a second glass before heading over to help Duncan sit up.

"Careful now. Drink, trust me, I'm an expert." Automatically Duncan obeyed.

"One more!" Riordan refilled his glass. After emptying that, Duncan lay back again. Satisfied Riordan poured one more drink for Duncan and one for himself, he sat in silence for a while until curiosity got the better of him.

"Why?"

"None of your bloody business!" Duncan snapped.

"Fine." Riordan held up his hand. He could see Duncan turn his head away and closing his eyes with a frown as if deliberating with himself.

"No, I'm sorry. You helped me without asking why. It's me being the asshole, not you," came the reply.

"Thank you for that." Riordan tossed back the remainder of his drink. "So why?"

"That man was responsible for the death of my mother." Duncan answered without opening his eyes. "Though I doubt he cared."

"Ah well, no one can blame you then I guess," Riordan offered. Duncan sat up next to him and downed the content of his own glass with alarming speed.

"I thought I was better than that, that I'd become more than just a...rat. Now I'm back to where I started." Duncan stared at the empty glass.

Riordan hurried to refill it before saying in a reasonable tone. "You killed him quickly because you are a good man!" He laid his arm around the other man's shoulders. "I on the other hand, would have taken my time."

Duncan smiled without mirth. "It's like I had a beast inside me."

"That's the problem with beasts; once you give them free rein there's no knowing which way they'll run. No one knows about it," then he amended, "at least no one that matters."

"Except you." Duncan turned a piercing look at him.

"Except me." Riordan agreed. "Are you thinking of killing me?"

"Have considered it yes but I can't now, can I? I just have to trust you." Duncan downed half his drink.

"Well we're sharing a room; you can kill me anytime if you change your mind. Most of the time I'm a sound sleeper."

"I've noticed." Duncan said with a wry grin. "Anyway, thank you Riordan, I mean it."

Riordan squeezed the other man's shoulder briefly before standing. It seemed like Duncan was going to say something else but he'd had enough. It was one thing to discover that the other man was fallible; the danger lay in the brief impulse he had felt to share something of his own. He felt the alcohol rush to his brain. Good, tonight he would sleep and if Duncan changed his mind about getting rid of him, at least the man was a professional.

Riordan pushed through the crowd of people that filled the taproom. In the smoke from the fire and the alcohol haze of his mind they looked like ghosts. A woman bumped into him, she felt real enough and he nearly dropped his bottle so he snarled a curse at her. She had tits that looked like they could smother a man. He wasn't interested though, he had far too much on his mind. He wasn't entirely sure he was happy with going out on a bender with Duncan, but the man had asked and seemed so ill at ease when he did that Riordan just couldn't say no. He was definitely going soft. But then again, refusing to go for a drink just wasn't his style.

The crowd thinned out and he spotted Duncan by the wall where he'd been slumped, silent and brooding all evening. Right now though, he was towering over one of the scrawny street kids that tended to drift around looking for stuff to steal, gripping the boy by the arm, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing in a rare show of rage. Riordan wondered if he might even hit the lad when the man snatched a satchel from the rope tied around the lad's waist and tossed it on the table.

Fascinated Riordan watched Duncan yank his own purse off his belt so hard the strings broke. He crammed it into the terrified boy's hands and shoved him away. An elbow in the back jolted Riordan into motion again and as he approached the table, Duncan sank down looking morose once more.

"What was that about?" Riordan nodded towards the satchel.

Duncan sighed, "Just some stupid kid selling Andraste's Mercy." He grabbed the satchel and upended it on the table.

Riordan eyed the little parcels and picked one up. It contained a brownish green powder. "Not exactly quality stuff, ever had it before?"

Duncan gave a bitter snort. "A couple of times, it's cheap. Problem is, sometimes it goes wrong. Saw a guy scratch his eyes out once, thought worms were eating his brain. Kind of puts you off." He returned the parcels to the satchel and poured himself and Riordan some of the tavern special that Riordan had brought. He sank back against the wall.

"Is it me or are you feeling a tad touchy." Riordan said sarcastically.

"Too many ghosts. I used to be like him." Duncan gestured at the room. "You could make a killing from punters too drunk to watch their purses."

Riordan tried to imagine Duncan as a boy, dark and skinny. He remembered how scrawny the man had seemed when he first noticed him, but even then there had been a wiry strength to him. Now he'd filled out of course but something of that feral boy was still in there in the way his eyes always took in everything around him, the care with which he placed himself in a room, the way he ate. Wardens were a hungry lot, it came with the territory, but Duncan seemed to think his food would be snatched away unless he inhaled it and tended to hover protectively over it. Despite all this, he always carried himself with a quiet dignity Riordan had no idea where it might have sprung from. He eyed the man thoughtfully as he sipped the spirit; it burned a pleasant path down his throat.

"Sorry," Duncan apologised, "I didn't plan to ruin your evening," he gave a wry smile. "I just wanted to thank you for last night."

Riordan squirmed. "No bother."

Duncan laughed under his breath. "No bother, that's all you can say?" He shook his head and suddenly turned serious again as his shoulders sagged. Rubbing his face he said. "Maker I hated that man, spent all my life hating him, but I never thought... He had us evicted. They gave us a day's notice. Mum had a shop and there was no way we could leave so quickly so she went to plead for more time but instead they turned up with guards and that...arrogant shit was there watching." Duncan downed his drink in one gulp and poured some more. The knuckles around the bottle were white with tension. "I don't know what happened, I think dad lost it and mum tried to intervene. Suddenly she was on the floor and there was blood everywhere. Just like that, she was gone." He drained another cup and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. "Don't remember much after that. We went to Orlais. Dad spent most of the time pissed. He got some odd jobs as a sellsword in the Val but never managed to keep them. I used to go and help him home from the tavern and he'd cry and talk about mum. Then one day he wasn't at the tavern either. When I found where he worked they told me he'd fallen." His voice trailed off.

"And you?" Riordan found himself asking although he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Still, it seemed Duncan needed to talk. The man reached for the bottle nearly knocking it over. Riordan took it and poured him another measure before topping up his own.

"Lived in the streets," Duncan said in a flat voice. His eyes were looking glassy now. "It ended one day when I tried to rob this guy. He got hurt, Maker, there was blood everywhere and I was shitting myself. He thanked me and died." Duncan drained most of his cup and Riordan was wondering how long he'd be able to keep this up before keeling over.

"I was going to hang. Then this woman turned up, said she was Commander of the Grey Wardens and wanted me to join them. Apparently the guy I killed was a Warden." Riordan whistled under his breath. "I refused." He stared at Duncan as if he'd suddenly grown a second head. Duncan looked blearily at him and gave him a lopsided smile. "I kind of thought, what kind of life does a man have that makes him thank his murderer? Being a Warden must be really awful right? So the Commander conscripted me. That was Genevieve, would let nothing stand in her way and certainly not a quaking gutter rat."

"And she got herself a new pet." Riordan leered trying to ease the brittle mood.

"Andrastes tits! Not you too."

"Oh come now, you were the golden boy, she took you everywhere, why not into her bed?"

Why does everybody think I bedded her? Duncan exclaimed raking a hand through is hair. "She was old enough to be my grandmother."

"So?"

"She hated me! The Warden I killed, he was her fiancé. She thought I would die during my Joining and when I didn't I guess she just hoped the Spawn or whatever would get me." Duncan gestured angrily, sloshing the last of his drink over himself.

Riordan tilted his head and eyed the agitated man carefully. Was that really true? It clashed violently with his image of his fellow Warden, but then again, so did what happened yesterday. It felt strange. "Perhaps you did, perhaps you didn't, I don't care." Ignoring Duncan's groan he continued, "Seems to me what you need now, actually, what _we _need now, is to forget this and get laid." He looked around. "I saw this woman earlier; she had the most amazing tits...oh and if you're not going to use the 'Andraste's...


	13. The why of whores

**A Note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

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><p><strong>The why of whores<strong>

Duncan brushed his fingers against the wall as he made his way to the room he and Riordan shared; the plaster felt cool and rough under his hand. It was dark and he was unfamiliar with the Denerim Compound so it had taken him some time and a few false turns to find his way back here. The pleasant alcohol fuzziness in his mind didn't make it easier.

He hesitated outside the door, uncertain if this was the right one before picking up the sounds coming from inside and remembering the beautiful, well-dressed woman that had wrapped herself around Riordan earlier that evening, he figured he'd come to the right place. After a short debate whether to let them finish before entering or not, he decided he was too tired to hang in the corridor. If Riordan insisted on dragging women back to their shared room he could bloody well deal with the consequences.

It took a few goes but Duncan finally managed to open the door and slip inside. He smiled with what he hoped was an apologetic smile as Riordan turned his head to look at him. His eyes were a bit glassy with drink and his current activities but focused well enough on him. He flashed Duncan a grin, only briefly halting his movements. Beneath him laid that same beauty Duncan had seen earlier, legs firmly locked around Riordan's hips. It didn't seem like she'd noticed the new arrival. Duncan waved and sank down on the other bed, trying to shut out the noises and the desperate creaking from the mattress ropes that came from across the room. It was no good. He eyed the bouncing couple through a yawn. The man hadn't even bothered to undress. Not for the first time Duncan found himself wondering what drew all these women to him since he by and large treated them like dirt.

"Did you find the one I told you about?" Riordan turned to look at Duncan again. The woman's eyes flew open and surprisingly enough she paid no heed to the fact that they were no longer alone. She tried to grab Riordan's hair to get his attention back but he swatted her off irritably." Duncan bit back a laugh and instead said, "Oh yes, and you were right about the redhead, she bites something wicked." He pulled off his boots.

"Maybe not to everyone's taste."

"You failed to tell me where though."

There was another grin. "Now what would have been the fun in that? Admit you liked it!"

"Maybe you should fuck your friend if he's so much more interesting than me!" The woman snapped.

Riordan pushed her down against the bed. "Easy princess, we're just catching up."

Duncan shook his head and lay back closing his eyes. He had had a perfect night. All he wanted now was to sleep. Maker that woman was loud! Cursing under his breath he rolled out of bed and keeping his back on the pair, especially since the woman's breasts jiggled distractingly with each thrust, he went over to the cabinet to pour himself a glass of the quite sour wine they picked up in the market. He looked out the window, it was still raining.

He was relieved when he heard Riordan drawl, "Thank you gorgeous, I will never forget you. Duncan, pass that bottle will you." When he turned, the man had already hitched up his trousers and was heading towards him. An angry voice called from the bed.

"What about me?"

"What about you?" Riordan snatched the bottle from Duncan's hand and took a deep pull before flopping down on the worn sofa.

"Swine! Filthy swine!" The woman untangled herself from the bed uncaring of her semi clad state. She stalked over to Riordan, her painted face twisted in anger.

Riordan turned an exasperated glance at Duncan. "See, this is just one of the reasons I prefer whores." He caught the woman's wrist just as she was about to slap him. "Oh no you don't!" When she continued struggling he squeezed it a bit harder until she stopped, before releasing her.

"You fucking bastard, you'll pay for this!" she spat as she rubbed her arm.

"Hit me then and be done with it, but try my patience no further." Riordan sounded resigned.

The sound of the slap echoed around the room and made Duncan wince, it was a good one and, he couldn't help thinking, well deserved. Riordan just took another swig from the bottle. The woman gathered her belongings and stormed out in a cloud of long hair, still screaming obscenities. Riordan leaned his head against the backrest of the sofa to stare at the ceiling.

"Smooth, very smooth." Duncan observed sarcastically as he sat down. "You'll never bed that one again."

"Why would I want to? That's the problem with beauties, they think you'll get off on their looks alone; the ugly one's have no such illusions. If there's a choice I take ugly anytime."

"I will keep that in mind." Duncan expected a grin for that but Riordan's eyes never left the ceiling so he muttered, "You're in a jolly mode."

"I got to get out of here, it's driving me crazy."

Duncan was surprised by the frank admission although he had noticed that Riordan had gotten increasingly restless and bad tempered since the arrival in Denerim. The budding friendship that ended so abruptly had been somewhat rekindled after the man helped him when he killed that noble and they'd had a decent time since. Now the man he had come near to liking was almost gone again. Instead the man he recognised from Montsimmard, restless and edgy, had begun to resurface. He found himself missing that other Riordan he'd caught such short glimpses off, even if his fellow Warden hadn't gone as far as to revert to hostilities, yet.

"Stay and I'll give you a challenge," he surprised himself by offering.

"Forget it, I'm not fighting you."

Duncan smiled. "No, nothing like that, this is a drinking contest."

Riordan looked incredulously at him. "You're joking right? I can drink you under the table eight days a week."

"That's what you think! I'll match you glass for glass, BUT there are rules to this game. We ask each other questions; you don't answer, you drink; you reply with another question, you drink."

Interested now Riordan sat up, a dangerous light in his eyes. "Right, but not this dog's piss." He waved the almost empty wine bottle and rose to recover a bottle of cheap brandy and two cups. Duncan winced, that stuff was nasty.

He covered it up by asking, "Shall we start?"

"Sure," Riordan said generously "I'll give you the first round."

"Fine, where are you from?"

Riordan raised his cup and drank, grinning he asked. "Top or bottom?"

"Top." Duncan answered without hesitation. "What brought you to Orlais?" Riordan drank again. "I can see where this is going," Duncan sighed.

"So you tried to rob that Warden who died, ever steal something that wasn't necessary, I mean just for the fun of it, not for survival?"

The question was casually tossed out but Duncan felt the barbs all the same and tensed. This was perhaps not such a good idea after all but he'd started it, hoping for Maker knew what, he wasn't sure anymore, and was bloody well going to finish it. "Yes," was all he could bring himself to say.

Riordan smiled wolfishly. "Really, what?"

"I believe it's my question," Duncan smiled back; it felt a bit stiff and unnatural, "Drink!" Riordan toasted him and he grabbed one of the myriad of questions he had about the man. "What happened to you at the river, you went down like a tree, scared the shit out of me." Duncan could see the other man hesitate, weighing his next words. Finally he seemed to reach a decision.

"This will make you laugh; I can't handle the sight of my own blood."

"What? You're pulling my leg!"

"No no, usually I can push it aside and in the heat of battle I don't feel a thing. You caught me unawares that's all."

"Only your own, not others?"

"Might make me queasy sometimes but never like that." Riordan emptied his cup and smiled wryly. "Actually, the fall usually hurt me a lot more than the initial injury. Cracked my head so bad once I saw double for almost a week."

"You've managed to hide it well, I give you that. Why tell me?"

"You asked? He hesitated. "Actually I still feel a bit bad when I see that black eye."

"Surely you're not implying there's a conscience somewhere in there?"

"Can't believe it either. It will pass, don't worry. Now it's definitely my turn, we're losing the thread with all this small talk." Riordan eyed him thoughtfully and Duncan held his breath. He'd gotten more out of the man than expected and now it was payback.

"Why do you keep poking at my mind all the time?"

"I do NOT! Why would I?"

"Drink, loser!"

Duncan mused while drinking. "Can you catch anything from me?"

"Bit's n pieces from time to time, I caught that you were horny earlier."

"What?" he spluttered.

Riordan pushed the bottle back at Duncan with a shake of the head. Gritting his teeth Duncan drank. The man was surely bluffing; it didn't take a great leap of imagination to guess that the sight of a naked beautiful woman would turn a man on.

"What surprised me," Riordan continued blithely "Was that you liked watching me more than her."

Duncan almost choked on the brandy. "That's it! You're making this up!"

"It was getting boring!" Riordan gave him another toothy smile. "Of course I don't pick up a thing, I'm a total loser in that regard, remember?"

"Hm, your punishment is finishing the bottle - in one go." Duncan tossed the bottle to the other man who caught it with ease. While he watched Riordan down the dregs his mind spun madly through the alcoholic fog. He had no idea what was lies and what was not, but an evil part of his brain whispered that he _had_ found it exciting to watch. That was perhaps not so strange but what bothered him now was he suddenly caught himself wondering if it was because of the woman or bloody Riordan. Angrily he squashed the doubt that slithered through his mind and hurried to say, "My turn, ever fucked a man?"_ 'Blight what kind of dumb question was that after what they'd just discussed?'_

Riordan made a great show of thinking. "Don't think so, but I've had my share of black outs and then some so who knows, you?"

Duncan snorted. He should have known that Riordan would follow suit. He leaned back against the worn armrest of the sofa. "No," on an impulse he added, "somebody tried it on me once, bit his ear off." It was almost worth dragging that particular bit of unpleasant memory out into the light just to see the startled glint in Riordan's eyes.

Duncan's head was beginning to swim and it was getting really hard to think. "Do you have any siblings?" The sudden tensing in the other man alerted him to that something about that innocent question was very wrong. Riordan slowly leaned forward.

"One sister perhaps, around eight brothers though I can't be sure; I didn't stick around to see if the two others survived after I killed the eldest."

Duncan emptied his cup without thinking. "What?"

"I believe it is my question." Riordan mimicked his tone.

"No, Maker! You're lying again, aren't you?"

Riordan leaned back eying Duncan from under heavy lids. "Yes of course, lucky me we're out of brandy." Abruptly he stood up. "Never mind! I'm tired of this anyway; I'm getting out of here." He headed for the door.

Duncan couldn't decide whether to be relived or disappointed. He sighed. "Try to stay alive, you sorry bastard."

"I always do, that's my curse."


	14. The allies

**A note: **Co written with Gaspode5**  
><strong>

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><p><strong>The Allies<strong>

"Andraste's tits what a fucking mess!" Duncan hissed as he gingerly moved his shoulder to test how much the motion would pull at the wound in his side. He felt another gush of warmth as the bleeding increased; he better not do that again although it might prove difficult to avoid.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Riordan muttered back, tightening the make shift tourniquet around his thigh. The two Wardens were lying on the slope of a small hill; their only shelter a patch of scrubland and a few rocks. Luckily it was getting darker or they would have been dead long ago.

"I hate archers; I was really fond of that mare. You wouldn't believe the kind of brutes I've gotten from the stables."

Duncan hesitated, one day he really should come clean about that one. He glanced towards where the horse lay dead at the foot of the hill. Still, better her than them. Duncan's own horse had been sent off with a slap on the rump to create a bit of distraction as he and Riordan took cover.

"I tell you, I liked that horse more than any of you Blighters."

Duncan decided maybe another time. He could see their attackers move amongst the trees, cautious now. They were mercenaries, not outlaws preying on unwary travellers. It was obvious they'd hoped to more effectively clip the wings of their victims before getting close; now two of them lay dead. He wondered if they had been told their targets were Grey Wardens. "They'll be coming up the hill soon. Can you manage on that leg?"

Riordan shrugged. It was odd but he looked more relaxed than he had during their entire stay in Denerim, this was the Riordan Duncan almost thought a friend. Guilt wormed its way through his stomach. Now the man might die, possibly because of him.

"Sure, with luck I won't have to do much running. You should be more worried about that side of yours. Especially since you tend to prefer your left."

"Well I'm not the one that can handle a bow am I? Get us out of this alive and I'll bleeding lick your dirty boots."

Riordan smiled while stringing his recurve. "What's with you and all these empty promises? So, except for the two crossbow men, who else do you want me to down?"

"The skinny one with the ugly nose, he's the one that got me and he's bloody fast."

"The skinny one it is, after that they'll catch on."

Duncan chewed his lower lip. That still left about ten. Maker, if they got out of this one alive he owed Riordan big time and not the least an explanation. Funny how the man could get his hackles up with just a word but now, in the midst of battle, he found himself trusting him implicitly. "Can you manage a few more in the initial confusion?"

"I will try, but they'll be moving then, I'm not Josian you know." Riordan frowned as he planted a row of arrows in the ground right next to him.

"You hardly ever miss when you hunt, you said."

The other man rolled his eyes. "That's with an unmoving target and most deer don't wear armour, or shoot back. I might get one more, after that it's touch and go."

"So give me a count of a hundred before you start, and don't forget Skinny."

"He's dead already, just doesn't know it." Duncan could see Riordan's teeth flashing in a grin. He shook his head; he felt he ought to say something but didn't know what. Instead he squeezed the other man's shoulder briefly before crawling off trying not to make too much noise. Cities were so much easier; it was all mud and cobble stones. Out here however, there were little rocks and big rocks, twigs, leaves and whatnots, all of it seemingly ready to move as soon as he looked at it. He gritted his teeth against the pain in the side. His clothes there felt sticky and the armour chafed. By the time he reached his goal sweat stung his eyes.

When he heard the twang of Riordan's bow he rose to cut the throat of the man positioned on the far edge of the clearing. He went down with a breathy grunt with was almost drowned out by the scream from the bow's first victim. Sensing movement Duncan sank down on one knee. He felt the air move as a sword passed over his head and jammed his knife high in his attacker's thigh. Staying low he slipped his sword underneath the guard of the third man and into his groin. He rolled away from the next attacker and up into a crouch. This man was more careful, advancing slowly behind his shield, forcing Duncan to retreat. Suddenly a body came crashing down at his opponent's feet. It was Skinny with an arrow through his mouth. "Show-off." Duncan muttered as he pushed his sword through the minute gap that opened up over the top of the other man's shield. The pain in his side almost made him drop it.

His vision blurred and he could only see the next attacker like an indistinct shape, distorted by the pain and encroaching darkness. As Duncan stepped back, hoping to put a bit of distance between himself and the enemy, he saw movement to his right, there were two more men there. Blinking furiously to clear his vision he spotted another two trying to flank him on the left. Risking a glance in the direction of the knoll he could see two figures edging crabwise up the slope in an attempt to get at Riordan. Duncan didn't doubt his fellow Warden would be able to handle them, besides, right now he had more pressing concerns.

He adjusted the grip on his blades and pushed the pain in his side to the furthest recesses of his mind. He grinned manically and taunted, "Come on then you gutless wankers! Who's first for a spanking?"

The expected attack never came. Instead there was a bellow from across the clearing. He could just make out Riordan standing with the bow ready, right out in the open and making an excellent target of himself. As one man the five attackers ducked down cursing. Riordan drew the bow taught but to Duncan's horror it snapped with a loud crack. The other Warden stared in disbelief at the broken weapon before flinging it at the three men that now rushed him.

The remaining two turned their attention on Duncan but it was already too late. Blood sprayed over him as he nearly severed the head from the body of one of them with a sweep of the sword. Even as he dodged a blow from the other man's axe, he saw Riordan's bad leg give out under him and the Warden fell gracelessly backwards and out of sight.

To Duncan it felt like a cold hand reached into his chest and squeezed but the need for survival left no room for concern. Grimly he dodged a blow from his opponent's shield and managed to kick him on the side of the knee, unbalancing him just enough to give Duncan the opening he needed. Foregoing the cumbersome sword he twisted past the man's guard and jammed his knife into his side. He yanked it back and didn't even stop to see the man drop. Instead he spun and raced towards where he'd seen Riordan fall. The other three attackers were already there.

Duncan's steps faltered as Riordan suddenly rose like the wrath of gods from amongst the bushes, now with a perfectly working bow in his hand, and fired. The arrow caught the nearest man in the throat and he fell practically at Riordan's feet. Pain forgotten Duncan shouted as he tried to close the gap between him and the remaining men. They hesitated and that was all the Wardens needed. Riordan's movement was a blur as he notched another arrow on the bow and fired again, hitting the nearest attacker in the leg almost at point blank. Duncan tackled the final one before he had a chance to recover from his surprise and they both tumbled to the ground. The man's sword went flying as Duncan yanked his head back and stabbed him in the neck. Pushing away he stumbled upright, breathing hard.

"Well that could have been more elegant." Riordan drawled. Duncan grinned at him and tried not to wince.

"Screw you, you bastard, did you plan that from the beginning?" he rasped breathlessly as he looked around.

"You give me too much credit; that was a move of brilliant improvisation." Riordan frowned. "There were two more, where are they?"

"Didn't see them, I was kind of busy." As Duncan spoke, they could both hear the sound of horses retreating fast. In fact, to Duncan everything suddenly seemed to be retreating, including Riordan. It was also getting impossible to see, as if dusk had decided to skip the last part of evening and move on directly to night. The world tilted and he reached out to grab hold of something, which turned out to be the ground.

The Maker was coming and Duncan felt warm and relaxed, cocooned in darkness. Everything was easy now, no pressure, no guilt, no fear. Then the Maker spoke, "Wake up! You got to get on the horse! Do you hear me?" Strangely enough the Maker sounded a lot like Riordan. His voice was loud and urgent. "There might be more of them coming, get up for Blight's sake!" Then the Maker slapped him and he opened his eyes to a world of pain.

"All right all right, I'm awake!" he croaked. "Stop hitting me! Riordan grinned toothily although his face still looked a bit blurry.

"Oh good, you're alive!" He disappeared only to return with one of the remaining horses and with much cursing he hoisted Duncan up before struggling up behind him. He took the reins of two other horses and urged the mount forward.

Duncan swayed in the saddle. "Afraid I won't last long," he slurred.

"Yes you will," Riordan growled, "I've got you and I won't let you get off cleaning my boots that easily." If it hadn't hurt so much Duncan would have laughed.


	15. The secret

**A note:** Co written with Gaspode5. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, 'tis most appreciated! :-D

**Disclaimer:** Should I suddenly own Duncan or Riordan, please let me know!

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><p><strong>The secret<strong>

Duncan woke to an insistent pain in his side. His head felt packed with wool and his mouth dry as The Silent Plains. With a groan he tried to roll over only to be pushed back. "Lie still, it would make it so much easier for both of us." He started but neither the hand nor the voice were ungentle.

"Riordan?"

"Who else? Here." A canteen was thrust into his face. Duncan took it and drank deeply, ignoring the pain. Memories were slowly coming back to him.

"Thank you." He tried to hand it back.

"Keep it and drink as much as possible. You've lost quite a lot of blood."

Duncan craned his neck to see what the man was doing, whatever it was it was bloody painful.

"Maker's breath, just lie still and drink! How hard can it possibly be?"

"Is it bad?"

"No not really. Not anymore, you had more luck than you deserved." Riordan shoved the canteen towards him. "Are you deaf? Drink I told you!"

"At least tell me what you're doing back there."

"I'm giving you a nice tattoo. Bah relax, had to change the dressing but I must admit I did better than I thought last night, darkness and all." Duncan obeyed and quietly sipped the water until Riordan straightened and said, "That's it I think. Some more rest and you'll be back on your feet. You look awful by the way."

Duncan grinned. "Thanks, that makes me feel so much better." He twisted as much as he dared to have a peek at Riordan's handiwork. "You're really good at this." He was surprised.

"Practice makes perfect," Riordan answered in a tight voice. Duncan knew better than to probe further, instead he let the drowsiness that seeped into his body like fog, carry him away once more.

Riordan could do little but wait and watch. His leg hurt like a Spawn was gnawing on it and he would have had a go at digging out the arrow head lodged there if it hadn't been towards the back. Frustrated he prodded the fire. He was in two minds about returning to Montsimmard. It would be good to leave Ferelden behind - again. For the entire stay in Denerim he had been forced to be on constant lookout for _them_ and as always he'd been unable to stop searching for _her_ in every woman he'd seen. The problem was that he hated the barrack life in Montsimmard and then there was Duncan, who always saw too much which unnerved him. Somehow rat boy got under his skin and made him think and feel far more than was healthy. Angrily Riordan tossed a blood soaked cloth onto the fire; perhaps it would have been safer to have let the man bleed out. At that thought something inside him immediately rebelled and there it was, it happened again! Riordan shook his head, whatever, the die was cast and Duncan would live, he would see to that. Resigned he turned the light grey eyes that was a legacy of his cursed father away from the sleeping man.

At dusk Duncan finally stirred and the first thing the man did was to turn his attention to the dark stains on Riordan's trousers with a worried frown. "How's your wound?"

"It's fine. Eat something."

"It's bled a lot..."

"Told you it's fine," Riordan snapped before seeing the genuine look of concern on Duncan's face. It was odd, the feeling that settled in his chest. For so many years nobody, not even he, had cared whether he lived or died. He wondered when last anybody worried about Duncan's wellbeing. Once again he found himself the uneasy focus of eyes that were far too sharp. He looked away.

"It'll hold 'til morning. Eat, drink and rest. There's no way I'm letting you near me in that state anyway." Duncan seemed to ponder this before reluctantly accepting the inevitable. They ate in silence and by the time Riordan had built up the fire again the other man was fast asleep. Riordan threw their blankets over of them and moved closer to lend his body warmth. The pain in his leg kept him awake for some time but finally exhaustion won out.

They woke to a damp and misty dawn in a tangle of limbs and bedding. Riordan's leg was stiff and aching. Duncan however, looked a lot better after another night's sleep and wasted no time demanding they do something about Riordan's injury.

"I'll let you help with the leg but you do exactly what I say, I'm not losing it to your incompetence."

"Coward." The word was said with a crooked smile.

It would have been fascinating if it hadn't been so painful, that Duncan's long fingered hands that could work a lock open in no time, suddenly became clumsy and inept when dealing with injuries. Riordan gritted his teeth. "You're only supposed to pull the head out, not cut my bloody leg off!"

"If you stopped moving it wouldn't be a problem." Duncan growled.

"The way you're going I won't be moving for much longer."

Duncan nervously wiped his bloody hands on his trousers and set to work once more. Pain flowed up Riordan's leg and shook his body. There was an agonising tug and a shout of triumph. He opened his eyes half expecting to see Duncan holding up a severed leg. Instead he was handed a sliver of metal with nasty looking barbs. Drained he sank back. "Right, just stitch it up, put some of the herbalist's balm on and wrap it up. You can do that right, without causing me grievous bodily harm?"

Riordan slept and when he woke it was to find that his fellow Warden had set up camp. They spent the rest of the day resting and sorting through the gear left by their attackers. It was cheap stuff though Riordan was considerably cheered when they discovered a stash of whiskey.

"Not exactly first class." Duncan frowned turning a bottle over.

"Wasn't planning on selling you know." Riordan snatched it out of his hands. "Too bad I didn't find this before you started carving me up."

Other than huffing at the low quality of their spoils, Duncan was uncharacteristically silent and broody. Later, as dusk began to fall, they huddled around the fire chewing on travelling rations, drinking tea and washing it down with plenty of the whiskey.

Duncan had a drunken glassy eyed look on his face and stared blearily into the fire, his empty hand fidgeting with his earring. Riordan was about to snap at him to either spit it out or go to sleep when he took a deep breath and said, "Listen, there's something I need to tell you." There was a note in his voice that made Riordan immediately wary.

"Those men that attacked us, I think they might have been after me." Riordan bit back a sarcastic comment at this preposterous statement; Duncan was looking far too serious for comfort. "I know it sound crazy but I think it's to do with what happened during my journey with Commander Genevieve..." He took a deep pull from the whiskey and inspected the bottle closely. "Genevieve took us into the Roads. I can't tell you why, but..."

"Why tell me anything?"

"You've saved my ass twice now without asking questions. You got damn near killed because of me." Duncan scowled at him.

"I've damn near gotten killed a lot more times all by my very own self." Riordan reached for the bottle, "What makes you think I won't use it against you?"

There was that piercing look again but softened by a faint smile, "I don't think you will and if anything should happen to me I leave it up to you to do what you think is right," was the enigmatic answer. "Anyway, if I never get to set foot in the Roads again it will be too soon I can tell you, a lot of people died..." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, there are amazing things down there if you go deep enough, caverns like cathedrals, ancient dwarven cities, dragons...

"There are no dragons; they've been extinct for hundreds of years." Riordan scoffed, but Duncan just grinned.

"Trust me, you couldn't mistake this creature, it was huge, nearly wiped us out. Our weapons...it was like attacking Roland with toothpicks."

"And yet here you are. So how did you take down this mythical creature?" Riordan felt trapped between scorn and the absolute belief that Duncan was telling the truth.

Duncan took another mouthful of whiskey. "I jumped onto its back to try...I don't know...to get at anything that would hurt it enough to make it go down so we could attack. It actually worked but it nearly killed me. Julien...," He looked up, "you remember Julien?"

Riordan shrugged uneasily. He remembered Julien. What he remembered even better was how he'd used Julien to taunt Duncan that time the man came to drag him back from a particularly spectacular bender.

"He died saving my sorry ass." The other man's voice trailed off and his shoulders sagged. "I put everybody in danger..."

Riordan shook his head. "Seems to me like you saved their bacon."

Duncan shrugged. "Don't know about that, but anyway, in the end there were only three of us left; me, Fiona and Maric."

"Maric, who's Maric?"

With a lopsided grin Duncan said, "You've met him, tall blonde fellow, very regal..."

It took a while for Riordan's brain to catch up. "You dragged the king of Ferelden into the Roads?" His voice nearly cracked with incredulity.

"I don't know if dragged is the word, he was quite keen actually. We needed him, he was the one who knew the area we were heading into the best. Anyway, we made it out. Needless to say Teyrn Loghain wasn't too happy about it and he still thinks I'm part of some Orlesian plot."

"This is all very exciting but why would anybody send mercenaries after you because of this?"

"Well you know Fiona was pregnant, right?"

"It was kind of hard to miss; everybody talked about it, thought it was yours." He couldn't hold back a grin at the flustered look on Duncan's face.

"What's wrong with you people? You think I was shagging my way through the Order?" He glared at Riordan who threw his hands up.

Duncan snorted but suddenly grew serious again. "The kid was Maric's."

There was a long silence until Riordan finally found the words. "Shit!"

"You could say that again. His name is Alistair. He was left with the Arl of Redcliffe and will never know his parents."

"Good for him." Riordan muttered.

"I'm not sure it was a good choice. The Arl is loyal but too fond of intrigues but Maric trusts him." Duncan sighed. "Then there's Loghain and his Orlesian plots, and then there's me. I was asked to keep an eye on the kid and was going to pop in to Redcliffe on the way back but now I'm afraid it might make matters worse.

"You think the Arl or the Teyrn decided to pull a fast one?"

"Yes, me being back in Denerim and talking to Maric might have upset things. It was a very half-hearted attempt but still...so I thought you should know."

"Maker's hairy arse! You really pick your enemies." Riordan rubbed his face trying to get his head around all this. "So what do we do?"

"Well, as I said, I don't think the attempt was all that serious, kind of 'if it works, great; if not, no big deal'."

"My suggestion is that we disappear into the Korcari Wilds for a week or so."

"We?" Duncan smiled.

Oblivious Riordan continued, "Better make that us and any number of bloodsucking creatures, you'll love the Wilds."

"Don't forget the Werewolves…"

"Even they have the sense to stay out of there."

Riordan woke with a start, from an elbow in the ribs. More than once on this journey, they'd woken to find him sprawled over the entire tent with Duncan almost pushed through the wall. This shove had not been an accidental one and Riordan expected some colourful curses to follow, telling him to keep to his side. Instead all he got was silence. With an irritated grunt he turned and began to settle once again. A hand suddenly gripped his arm hard.

"Spawn." It was barely a whisper. Riordan reached out and now he felt the tell-tale pull and the sense of being somehow sullied. Silently both men slipped out of the tent, grabbing their weapons on the way. It was dark but there was a faint glow from the fire, they had not been long asleep. The horses shifted restlessly in the shadows, otherwise it was quiet. "They're close, two Bugeyes and four, no three Roaches, I think." Duncan said under his breath.

"You think?"

"You try to do better." The other man hissed.

"Ok ok, now that's not so bad."

"It wouldn't be if we were both hale." Duncan sounded thoughtful.

"Your left side is bad, so is my right leg, together we make one complete Warden. Piece of cake!" Riordan saw the flash of white as Duncan grinned, it looked oddly disembodied in the dark and it must have served the man well in the old days, being naturally camouflaged.

Duncan tossed him a crossbow and quarrel scavenged from their previous attackers. "Load that, I can't with this wound." With a grunt Riordan did as asked and handed it back to Duncan who continued, "They're coming in two groups from north and south east."

"Then I suggest we keep our backs to the rock," Riordan said as he snatched up a bow and quiver and headed for the small cliff that rose craggy and moss clad at the far side of the camp.

He scanned the darkness around them. The glow from the fire gave them just enough light, hopefully without making them too much of a target. Putting it out was pointless since the Spawn could see well enough in the dark and they were all drawn inexorably towards each other by the Taint.

"Stick to the bow and keep to my left if you can, I don't know how well I'll be able to cover that side," Duncan murmured. "Any moment now." He continued under his breath.

"Let's hope they're not ranged."

"Miserable bastard."

The horses whinnied in panic and tugged at their ropes. Riordan could hear twigs snapping followed by grunts and growls. The noises from the forest got louder and he could feel the Spawn now without even trying.

Abruptly two Roaches broke cover, their squat bodies partially cloaked in shadows. He could see the manic glint in their eyes and they both howled as they rushed the Wardens. Their presence was like maggots crawling under his skin. One went down before it even finished its first step towards them, an arrow through its eye. There was a twang as the crossbow was fired and the next one fell at their feet. Riordan already had another arrow notched and Duncan drew his blades even as the crossbow hit the ground and stepped forward to get more room.

Two Bugeyes with another Roach in tow, crashed through the bushes. Duncan seemed to flow towards them and slipped through the guard of a Bugeye swinging an axe. He came in low and skewered the beast through the armpit. It gurgled its last breaths as the second Bugeye yowled and toppled to the ground, shot through the neck. Duncan didn't waste time pulling his sword back but let it go and in one fluid move spun and stabbed the last beast in the side with the dagger. The Spawn went down with a defiant snarl and was silenced by another arrow.

Without pause Duncan retrieved his sword and silently moved across the camp site. Something was obviously wrong. Riordan notched another arrow and looked around. For the first time since his Joining, his inability to use the Taint properly frustrated him. Spawn were stupid but some of them were as good at hiding as any rogue.

The beast seemed to converged out of the shadows, suddenly it was just there, right behind Duncan, crossbow raised. There was no way Riordan's arrow would hit it in time. '_No!_' he thought in panic and tried to shout but Duncan hit the ground before any word left Riordan's mouth. The quarrel missed its mark, Riordan's arrow did not.

Duncan picked himself up and joined his fellow Warden. "I can't feel any others. You ok?"

Riordan snorted and shook his head. "Just dandy. How did you know? I swear that thing didn't make a sound."

"You shouted." Duncan looked surprised.

"I..." Had he? No, Duncan ducked before he had had a chance to say anything, at least that's what he thought, he suddenly wasn't sure. "Never mind, let's get rid of this lot."

They had no mage so burning the bodies was out of the question. All they could do was to gather them a good distance from the road and their camp and hope the local wildlife had the sense to stay clear. Duncan's wound needed further patching up but otherwise the man seemed well enough. He was quiet once again though, which suited Riordan fine, he had a lot on his mind.

As they lay there in the tent awaiting the dawn he eventually said. "What kind of idiot would jump on the back of a dragon anyway?"

Duncan chuckled next to him. "An idiot who thought he knew best." He sighed. "Actually it seemed the only way to bring it down. I nearly soiled myself when the damn thing crashed."

Riordan wrapped himself in one of the blankets and turned over on his side yawning. "Ha, that's off my list of stupid things I have to try. I hate heights!"


	16. The End part 3

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5.

* * *

><p><strong>The End 3<strong>

"That first trip to Ferelden really had a bit of everything." Duncan observed quietly.

Riordan shrugged, the smile gone. "So what's next? More small talk about the abominable Ferelden weather, updates on old acquaintances?" His voice oozed sarcasm.

Duncan pretended not to notice. "If you like to, I'm a bit out of touch as you know."

Riordan snatched up the bottle and topped up the glass that sat forgotten in Duncan's hand before pouring himself some. He sank down in his chair again and pretended to think. "Let's see, we've already been over Vittorio. Amaury haven't gotten smarter over the years but he's become a bloody good healer." Riordan pulled up his tunic and turned so Duncan could see his ribs. "You remember I used to have a scar here, a bad one with the tissue sort of stuck to the bones?"

Duncan nodded; he had stitched that one up himself whilst praying that he was fast enough, now it was gone. "Amazing," he said and meant it, despite the bitterness at the back of his throat.

Riordan dropped the hem of the shirt and took a sip from his glass. "Didn't go so well the first five times he tried. The first time, blood started pissing from the wound, I swear, it spurted a foot out from my body." He gestured with his hand for a moment looking genuinely amused.

"How did you manage that?"

"Went down like a tree of course, but I blamed it all on him. It's not like anyone doubted."

Duncan snorted, "Yet you let him practise on you."

"Wasn't as if there were people queuing up after that incident, anyway, it felt good to get rid of some memories when he finally managed to perfect the spell."

Duncan looked away. One more thing that had been erased between them. He searched desperately for something to say past the hurt. "That sounds like something Vittorio would appreciate," he tried, to himself the humour in his voice sounded strained.

"Oh yes, he's flawless as a baby's bottom these days. Made Sorry his personal pet."

Duncan smiled; Sorry was the group's nickname for Amaury since he said it so often, usually not without cause.

"But the best thing is that Vittorio is going bald, those gorgeous locks, gone forever."

"Amaury can't fix that?"

"Nope, but I hope he tries! Maybe Vittorio will end up with hairy eyeballs." The image conjured up made them both laugh, almost like the old days, there had been a time when they had found it easy to laugh together.

"And Renna?"

"Bedded her a few months back, actually she came on to me."

"Renna? Now you're having me on, she hated you."

"Unlike you I'm no mind reader but no, I'm not lying." Riordan studied his glass thoughtfully. "It was almost as if she was trying to recapture something from the past." Riordan shrugged. "Maybe I was too."

Duncan bit back the bitter words, 'Why would you, you've been so busily shedding it,' and instead he said, "So, were is Renna now?"

"Bolted back to Weisshaupt as fast as the horse could carry her." Riordan grinned wolfishly. "Did you know she was actually a virgin? Sprouted something about purity lost, I didn't quite get it. My guess she's down on her knees in front of some altar right now begging Andraste to restore it. Oh, and Roland is dead."

The words were spoken in such an offhand tone anyone except perhaps himself would have thought it a minor issue. The wind came howling down the chimney and dumped a load of ashes in the silence that followed.

"What, how?" To Duncan's astonishment Riordan laughed.

"It's actually quite funny. You know how we used to think he was indestructible. How he always set off all kinds of traps just walking right through them."

Duncan felt a smile pull at his face. "Almost got me killed twice."

"Me, more times than I care to dwell on, but who can blame him, you can't see a bloody thing in those helmets he insisted on wearing." Riordan shook his head and the smile that pulled up the corners of his mouth seemed almost genuine, fond even. "Anyway, he choked to death."

"How?"

"How do you usually choke to death?" Riordan said with a snort. "He ate something that got stuck that's how! I was told that his face had a look of surprise, like someone had pulled the dinner table away from him." This time Riordan drank absentmindedly directly from the bottle. "I don't think he minded that much, never got over the death of his wife."

"Didn't she have kids?"

"Half grown now. I found the grand-parents and they came to collect them. Can you imagine the eldest wanted to stay and join the Wardens?"

"I take it you didn't let her."

"Take a chance with the life of Roland's daughter, for a whim brought on by despair, not bloody likely! Told her I could sense that she would die from the cup. That should put an end to it."

"So Roland is dead. I can hardly believe it." Sorrow sank like a stone into Duncan's chest and settled there, another dead weight.

"Take it from me. Roland is definitely dead."

Duncan tried to catch Riordan's eyes but they were as elusive as ever. "You were very fond of him." It wasn't a question.

"We got along well, yes. There were times after... there were times when he kept me alive." Abruptly Riordan got out of the chair as if preparing to leave.

Suddenly afraid that he might, Duncan stood and the other man froze. Now Riordan's eyes met his, they were angry and haunted. "I'm sorry." Duncan blurted.

"What for, it wasn't your fault?" The last words came out all hoarse and Riordan turned away. "I wasn't there either, something I will always blame myself for. If I could have taken his death I would."

"Still offering yourself up for slaughter?" Duncan prodded softly.

"You always gave me too much credit, it's not something I do on regular basis, only for those I care for."

"I'm sure your friends would prefer if you didn't."

Riordan bristled. "Well that isn't your problem now, is it?"

"No, I suppose it isn't."


	17. The daily grind

**A note:** Co-written by Gaspode5. And Jaden, thank you so much for your comments! Here's another one with 'not so serious' wardening... :-D

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><p><strong>The Daily Grind<strong>

"Uh, that was a nasty one you pulled there, glad I don't have to face the two of you in the field, and who would have thought _YOU_ actually knew how to hold a sword." Roland prodded Riordan who almost fell over, before emptying a bucket of water over himself. "Maker it's hot today, I've had enough!"

"You're just plain lazy." Riordan teased.

Duncan laughed as he peeled off his gambeson. The sweat soaked garment stuck to his damp skin and felt even heavier than usual. It landed on the ground with a dull thud.

Roland rolled his eyes at the good natured jibe. "Thought we had you there, clever move that, sacrificing one to get to the Mage."

Riordan pulled his tunic over his head before claiming the bucket from Roland to draw more water. "If it's any consolation it wasn't pleasant. I'm telling you," he jabbed a finger in Duncan's direction, "next time it's YOU getting frozen."

"Ha! Next time I might fry you instead." Amaury said sulkily. The Mage lowered himself to the ground with a groan and leaned back against the wall where there was shadow. After a week of near constant rain that had turned the trip from Jader into a mud bath, it had suddenly turned sunny and extremely hot. The air was humid and smelled of mud and garbage; it felt like it had been boiled. Even the breeze was warm, doing little to cool the Wardens.

"Then it's definitely Duncan's turn!" Riordan tossed the contents of his bucket at him. Duncan spat and shook the water out of his hair with a grin, wowing to pay Riordan back at the next opportunity. He didn't mind the heat as much as the others. Had it been cold and snowy however, he would have been shivering pile of misery draped in whatever warm clothes he could find.

"Safest thing ever!" he sniggered. "When was the last time Amaury actually hit someone with a fireball?"

"I think it was me." Roland muttered.

Riordan wiped water from his eyes and leant on the edge of the well. "Speaking of fire, have a look at that!" He indicated the second sparring area where Renna was making short work of a line of disheartened opponents with Vittorio as defender.

"Vittorio isn't half bad either," Amaury volunteered craning his neck.

Duncan had expected some acerbic remark from Riordan and when none was forthcoming he glanced towards him. He was still reclining against the well drinking from a dipper, following every move the Antivan made. Duncan didn't envy Vittorio his next encounter; when Riordan bothered to put his mind to it he was a menace. Not least because he was always willing to step in and take hits any sane person would avoid, if by doing so he could deliver worse, even Duncan who was well aware of it now, fell for it from time to time.

"Renna is a battlemage, I'm a healer." Amaury objected as the spectacular massacre ended.

"Maybe we should go up against her." Duncan suggested to his friend.

"Forget it! I like my limbs where they are." Riordan responded absentmindedly.

Roland got another bucket of water. "I hope this weather breaks soon. Spending a miserable week on horseback from Jader was bad enough."

"You were miserable? I could hear your poor horse complaining all the way." Duncan laughed and dove out of the way to avoid being caught by heavy arms.

"You are all brats. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you are the motherly kind?" he suggested, wishing he hadn't rolled on the ground while wet. He tried to wipe the dust and debris off but only managed to smear it further.

"And you are supposed to be the best of the lot." The men froze and looked over at the Mage who floated towards them. Renna shook her head sadly. She was as immaculate as ever, there wasn't a drop of sweat anywhere or a hair out of place. No dirt marred her pristine robes. The heat of the day suddenly seemed a lot cooler. "And you," Renna turned to Riordan with a nasty half smile, "I'm surprised you have nothing smart to say, pleasantly surprised."

"Naturally I'm struck dumb by your beauty." Riordan said politely.

The Mage inclined her head with a smirk. "So you're capable of learning from your mistakes too. There appear to be no end to the surprises today." With that she walked on leaving behind an air of unease and a faint scent of herbs.

"That was an unusual show of restraint." Roland remarked as he stared with the others at Riordan.

"You have no idea what she has threatened to do to me. Until I find out if such things are even possible, I keep my trap shut around her." he muttered.

Roland's eyebrows merged with his hairline. "Uh, what did you do to get her that pissed off?"

"Oh, just about anything she asked for, up until it came down to mount or not to mount." Riordan leered and emptied the bucket over him.

"Are you saying you tumbled Renna?" Aumary spluttered, "and someone get him away from that well!"

"At the time I thought I was going to, now I'm not so sure." Riordan replied thoughtfully as he sent the bucket down again. Amaury rolled his eyes and inched away.

"You must be either lying or crazy. Duncan scoffed. "Actually, what _AM_ I saying, you _ARE _crazy, and a liar too!"

"Try it yourself." Riordan smirked. "She has an interesting fetish for cruelty. I might give it another shot once I heal." He poured another bucket of water over himself before aiming a kick at Duncan's shoulder sending him back into the dirt.

"You and I this time, but I'm warning you, you're going to get your ass kicked."

"Hah, prepare yourself to be seriously disappointed!"

Duncan winced against the eye watering pain as Amaury with surprising gentleness for such a clumsy man knitted the bone and cartilage in his nose. He supposed Riordan had won this particular round but there would be more sparring sessions and plenty of opportunity to kick his butt.

"There, as good as new," the healer said looking pleased.

"I don't know Amaury; I think his nose looks even bigger now." Roland said squinting at Duncan.

"Shut up!" Duncan growled as he prodded the nose, most of the pain was gone. He took some further comfort in looking at the very nice black eye he'd managed to give Riordan, it was completely swollen shut and when Riordan grinned at him there was blood on his teeth from the split lip. He and Riordan had taken up sparring during the last leg of their journey from Ferelden but, although he by now considered the man a friend, going easy on each other was something that probably would never happen.

"What happened to you two anyway?" Roland continued quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we all thought you'd end up killing each other on your little trip and had a bet on who would come back alive. And now you're both back and you're all lovey dovey. I lost a lot of money you know!"

"Lovey dovey! You're talking out of your ass." Duncan snorted.

Riordan leaned forward and grinned. "Was it my elbow in his face or his knee in mine that gave it away?"

"Wait a minute, you had a bet," Duncan asked curiously, "who did you bet on?"

Roland glanced over at Riordan who was cursing Amaury for poking his thumb in his black eye while the mage apologized profusely.

Duncan frowned at Roland who began to look a bit sheepish.

"Actually I bet on Riordan. Come now," he hurried on, "he's a sneaky bastard, most of the guys did. If there's any consolation Josian bet on you, but the odds of you two having kissed and made up weren't very high, a new guy made a small fortune. I actually considered it but Vittorio had a convincing argument, even if you would keep in line, Riordan was bound to fuck up sooner or later."

Duncan huffed and turned towards the Antivan who had joined them and sat scowling and aloof in the shade. "Well thank you so much for that vote of confidence Vittorio!"

One corner of Vittorio's mouth was pulled up in a reluctant half smile. "Sadly it was common sense, and there was money involved yes. But I kept praying for _YOU _to return."

Riordan leered suggestively at Vittorio. "Well now Joy, have you tired of innocent recruits and was hoping for a bit of gutterrat instead? Be careful, he nips."

Vittorio sneered at him. "Bastardo, you spew vileness. The Maker is infallible but still I wonder why he put you here.

"Perhaps you would like to rectify his mistake." Riordan's smile was all teeth now and Duncan tensed. He didn't like the sharp anger that smoked through Riordan's words; this was rapidly becoming more than just a friendly squabble but he didn't know what to do about it. Riordan had gotten increasingly restless and prickly since they returned to Montsimmard and Duncan could feel his friend slip away, becoming more distant every day.

"Bah, I would never presume to do his work. No doubt he has great suffering in store for you. I will relish the day and need not soil my hands with you!" With that Vittorio stood up and stalked off.

"Nah," sniggered Riordan, "they're already busy punishing Percy."

-oOOo-

Duncan reached out for support and grazed his knuckles against the wall. Cursing he grabbed hold of the door frame. Riordan's head lolled against his shoulder and Duncan renewed his grip on him although right now it was difficult to tell who supported who.

He had been surprised and ridiculously pleased when Riordan had opted to get drunk in his company instead of disappearing off into his own personal darkness. Right now however, Duncan was simply very drunk. He looked blearily towards Riordan's bed which seemed impossibly far away beyond a floor that was definitely moving. Steeling himself he murmured, "Almost there," and with that he and Riordan made their unsteady way towards it. The snores that filled the air remained uninterrupted, even when Duncan gracelessly dropped his friend on the bed and knocked over a chair as he tried to stop himself from falling.

"Duncan." Riordan gripped his sleeve surprisingly firmly. Duncan sat down heavily on the bed, narrowly missing Riordan who glared glassy eyed at him. "Maker I hate this!" he croaked, "don't you feel it too? The walls... they keep closing in until you're...trapped, nowhere to bolt."

Duncan squinted around the room, it was spinning yes, he had an uneasy feeling he was missing the point here but his brain just wouldn't co-operate. "I think so."

"And someone is always watching, waiting for a crack to cram a dagger in. You were the same you know," with some difficulty Riordan managed to prop himself up on his elbow. There was a gust of alcohol when he spoke again, "but you didn't." He dropped a heavy hand on the back of Duncan's neck and brought their foreheads together, "you had your chance and you didn't take it."

It sounded a bit weird Duncan thought but not bad. "Yeah, yeah, I like you too," he hazarded.

"I like no one, but you... you're not no one."

That was a bit too much for Duncan to follow so he tried to make up for it by patting the other man on the shoulder, he missed and nearly fell. He had to grab Riordan's arm but the man didn't seem to notice.

"We're good." Riordan murmured, eyes sliding shut as he sank back onto the bed.

"We're good." Duncan agreed.

* * *

><p>Bastardo - bastard, illegitimate<p> 


	18. The ambush

A note: Co-written with Gaspode5

* * *

><p><strong>The Ambush<strong>

With a groan of relief Riordan emptied his bladder against the wall. As he stood there he tilted back his head to stare up at the pale blue sky. The way hazy clouds were gradually spreading from the west he was certain there would be rain before the morrow.

He was torn from his reverie by a shout, it sounded very much like Duncan and was followed by the unmistakeable sound of metal against metal. Cursing Riordan tucked himself away and tried to lace up his trousers as he ran. It was awkward but there was no way he was going into battle with his cock hanging out.

Eyes darting he headed towards the sounds of battle. He had to compromise between speed and caution and gritted his teeth in frustration. In the distance he saw movement up on the roof of a two storey building. He sprinted around a corner to see Duncan holding off three men with his usual mix of dirty tricks and quick moves. Whoever was on that roof would get a clear shot at him. Duncan dispatched two of his opponents before the third hit him in the head with enough force to drive him to his knees. He lashed out and caught the man in the stomach. Finally Riordan got a clear view of the people on the top of the building, bloody two they were, with crossbows. His steps faltered; the man would die and there was little he could do about it...too bad... These thoughts flashed through his head just before he leapt. He crashed into Duncan as something else hit him hard. They both tumbled to the ground.

Trying to extricate himself from his friend he realised that the shafts of two quarrels were protruding from his midriff. He stared at them in disbelief before a wave of pain knocked the wind out of him making him fall back gasping for breath. He heard Duncan curse and call his name. Hands grabbed him and began dragging him as a fireball exploded somewhere nearby. The world disappeared for a bit before returning as somebody, possibly Duncan, prodded him in the stomach. The man was probably trying to do some good but all he managed to do was to increase Riordan's agony, enough to make him fold over with a groan, which he instantly regretted. "I'm having second thoughts about this entire dying thing." he panted. He felt dizzy and cold and his arms tingled.

"Hang in there, Renna is coming." Duncan urged.

"Renna isn't even a half decent healer." Riordan protested.

"You don't need neat and nice, you need a mason throwing cement around."

Riordan's mouth quirked around another groan. "Renna can certainly do that...enjoy it too."

"Just shut up and hang on." Duncan's normally soft voice sounded harsh. Riordan was suddenly very tired. As the world began to recede once again, taking the pain with it, he happily let go. "Hang on you stupid bastard!" Duncan shook him.

"Stop that, you're making it worse." Renna's voice cut through Riordan's pain muddled mind. "Hold him down."

"He's passing out!"

"Not for long, he isn't!"

Riordan's eyes flew open and air was forced from him as Renna grabbed one of the quarrels and started pulling it out whilst healing poured from her fingers into the bleeding flesh. "The Maker is fond of the least deserving, no barbs." She tossed it aside.

"Could you possibly have made that more painful, bitch?" Riordan gasped, sweat was now running down his face.

"Annoy me again and I will certainly give it a try." Renna answered calmly.

Riordan could have sworn she did. When she declared herself finished he rolled over and vomited what seemed like more blood than it was healthy to loose. As from a great distance he could hear a voice speaking his name. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness and wished he would pass out completely or die, it didn't matter which. The voices kept nagging him; he wanted to make them stop but didn't have the strength. He shivered; blood loss, a lucid part of his mind said, death, another darkly seductive voice whispered. More voices intruded, Renna sounding irritated and defensive now, Duncan, angry and anxious. Warmth shot through Riordan's body and he could suddenly breathe more easily. He found the strength to get up on all four to spew up what felt like another fountain of blood.

He must have passed out since the next thing he knew he was lying close to a fire and his guts no longer felt like they were being ripped out of him. He listened to the soft crackling and hissing of the flames as they devoured the wood; the sharp smell of smoke tickled his nose. Not far away he heard the sound of people talking in muted voices. The fire made him scorching hot on one side and cool on the other but he couldn't be bothered to turn over.

He tried to sink back into oblivion, but gradually a feeling that he was being observed stole over him. He opened his eyes to find Duncan hovering over him. "Thank the Maker! Renna thought you might pull through if you were strong enough."

Discomforted by the scrutiny and the obvious relief in Duncan's voice Riordan went with sarcasm. "Guess there will be more than a few disappointed faces."

"You bet ya, but not mine!" Roland was jangling a heavy purse as he approached, his face split into a huge grin.

"This betting is getting out of hand." Duncan grumbled.

"Bah, I lost a lot on how long it would take Eric to fall off the horse yesterday." Roland squatted next to Riordan and gave his shoulder a pat before handing him a canteen. "Renna said you should drink it all."

Riordan sniffed the bottle suspiciously. "What is that, poison?"

"How do I know?" The Orlesian shrugged and got to his feet. "Glad you made it shrimp! I'll even split the spoils with you but right now something smells like dinner." He left with a final wave. Riordan raised an inquiring eyebrow at Duncan.

"What, no, I didn't bet!" He turned away to look at the fire. "Did you really think I would bet on your life?"

Riordan winced inwardly at the hurt in Duncan's tone. He struggled to a sitting position, taking a deep draught of Renna's brew; it was easily vile enough to take his mind off the other man's reaction. "I suppose something stronger is out of the question?" he ventured trying to recapture a lighter tone again.

Taking the cue Duncan grinned. "Oh yes, as is anything else. If I were you, I'd keep my fingers crossed that Renna connected your insides properly."

Riordan winced. "Fine, I see your point, no need to rub it in."

Leaning closer Duncan spoke; low and urgent. "Those quarrels were meant for me, why did you take them?"

"I get these really stupid impulses from time to time but had I known I would get them in the gut I would have reconsidered, believe me! They would have done less damage in your head."

He could hear Duncan laugh, it sounded relieved but then suddenly the man spoke again. "No truly, why?"

_'Because...because...I don't know, don't ask!'_ Riordan shrugged, suddenly feeling light headed.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes!" The word had no sooner left his mouth before he felt the canteen slip out of his hand. He was waiting for his head to hit the ground when he realised hands were supporting him, easing him back. He spoke into the other man's neck.

"Duncan?"

There was a pause. "Yes?"

"Please tell me Vittorio lost."

"He did, a small fortune in fact."

"This has been the most perfect day!" Riordan fell asleep with a smile.

-0-0-0-

Two days later Duncan returned with the patrol sent to root out the remaining raiders. They had lost two Wardens in the previous encounter, which was not to be tolerated. The Wardens had made sure to leave a number of the raider's corpses on stakes, branded with the Gryphon insignia, to bring the message home.

Duncan reported whilst Ser Eric scowled into his shield as he tried to shave with trembling hands. Duncan couldn't help but to marvel at the fact that the man managed to do it without cutting his own head off. "Well done." the senior Warden mumbled and dabbed his cheeks.

Looking across the camp to where a few men were still recovering Duncan inquired. "Where's Riordan?"

"Who?"

"The man with the gut wound."

"Ah, you mean the dark-haired smart-mouth." Duncan suppressed a smile and thought wryly that it pretty much summed Riordan up.

The senior Warden squinted at his reflection in edge of the shield. "Didn't he die?"

"What!" Duncan felt an unexpected stab of fright." I though he was out of danger."

Ser Eric frowned and seemed to think. "Or maybe it was one of the others. Can't expect me to keep track of everybody. Some of the men went down to the lakeside I think; maybe you'll find him there."

With unease curling in his stomach Duncan headed for the lake. It was not totally unrealistic that Riordan had died, gut-wounds were dodgy. He lengthened his stride, impatiently pushing aside low hanging branches and aiming for the sound of voices.

As he finally burst out in the open he saw a few of the men still in the water, some sitting or lying on the shore and a few were trying their luck with fishing rods further along the lake shore. Scanning the scene his heart lifted as he spotted Amaury and Riordan who were getting dressed. He smiled as he saw Riordan trip the mage up by tugging at his trousers. Amaury, a good natured sort, only laughed before freezing the other man's legs, sending him to the ground as well.

"Hey, Duncan! Good to see you in one piece!" Looking up, Riordan greeted him with what seemed like genuine warmth.

"Aye, welcome back!" the Mage echoed.

Riordan shook the last vestiges of frost from his feet before smacking Amaury across the back of his head. Chuckling Duncan began to remove his armour. "Glad to see you're doing well. No unpleasant surprises?"

Riordan grinned. "Well Amaury had to do some patching up but I must admit I'll be holding my breath until I have tested everything. I just spent so much time washing blood from my crotch I was sorely reminded of that I'm in desperate need of a woman, but otherwise I'm fine." Duncan and Amaury guffawed.

With an evil grin Riordan sat up and called out to Vittorio who was still in the water. "Hey, Vittorio, you're the closest thing to a woman we have around here, would you mind shaking those lovely locks a bit more, just for our benefit."

"Go fuck Renna scum!" the Warden retorted.

Riordan shook his head smiling. "Get the water out of your ears Vittorio; I said _a woman_."


	19. The brawl

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5, and as always, thank you Jaden for commenting!** Blowkiss!  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Brawl<strong>

Sancha was smiling, a warm very nice looking smile. The only problem was that it wasn't aimed at him but at one of the Chevaliers at the bar. Duncan managed to tear his eyes away from the depressing display and drained his cup of Red Gryphon's Double Distilled. Just in time, since Riordan arrived with another bottle and a broad grin. The man was well pickled, they all were, but so far it didn't really show other than in his mood. For Duncan, the world had taken on a warm haziness which would have been pleasant if it hadn't been for that Chevalier. He glanced over again and then wished he hadn't. Instead he turned his attention on Riordan who unceremoniously shoved Josian aside and plopped himself down on the bench next to Duncan whilst pulling the cork out of the bottle with his teeth. He spat it onto the floor. As he refilled Duncan's cup he said "Don't look so glum, she's not interested in horseboys."

"Could have fooled me." Duncan said morosely and took a mouthful of the spirits; it burned a pleasant path to his stomach.

"She's just having a bit of fun, or something." Riordan continued unperturbed. "Don't worry, if Sancha has any sense she'll let you back in the saddle."

"Mm, have you been with her?"

"Maker's balls no! She's clever and I like her, two traits I find undesirable in women I want to bed."

Duncan nodded; Riordan's answer didn't particularly surprise him. By the bar Sancha laughed. "Look at him! How can anybody compete with that, he's a fucking Chevalier." Duncan waved his mug, spilling his drink on Josian who gave a protesting squawk.

There was a snort from Roland. "The Chevalier's aren't all they're cracked up to be." He gave the boisterous group at the bar a dark look. "Caused my family a lot of trouble, them did." He turned to Duncan, gave him a wink and continued brightly, "Anyway, you're all right looking, a bit scrawny but Sancha doesn't seem to mind. Just talk to her."

"See," Riordan said, nudging Duncan in the side, "if I was a woman I'd be on my back for you in no time but I would hate to crowd Roland." He ducked the coming swipe.

"The woman shames the Wardens, look how she flaunts herself!" Vittorio glared at Sancha.

An evil part of Duncan did agree but he pushed it away. There had never been any promises between him and Sancha, and he was under no illusion that she had waited for him, but now that he was back he had expected to be noticed at least.

"Shut your bloody mouth Vittorio or I'll do it for you!" he ground out.

"Bah! You surprise me Duncan. That's the kind of simple threat of violence I would expect from your catamite! You are a reasonable person, yes? Surely you can agree that..."

Suddenly something snapped in Duncan. "You want something to bleat about Vittorio? I'll give you something!" He grabbed Riordan by the neck and pressed their lips together in a grinding kiss. The man tensed at first but then Duncan noticed his eyes darting towards Vittorio and felt the smile spreading on his lips. Riordan tilted his head to get a better view of the Antivan and Duncan could feel a hand sliding up his neck, pulling him closer. The air filled with jeering and catcalls. He waited a few more heartbeats before pulling back and turning to Vittorio. "Bleat sheep!" he spat.

"You are both whores!"

Riordan draped an arm over Duncan's shoulders. "Takes one to know one." He raised the bottle of Double Distilled to his lips and slowly slipped the neck into his mouth, sucking suggestively.

Vittorio was almost purple in the face but oddly, all he said was, "No wonder the Maker turned from us!" before pushing away from the table and stalking off.

"I felt tongue!" Duncan hissed.

"Yeah, that was you." Riordan answered as he reached for the expensive whiskey the Antivan had left behind.

Duncan was just about to protest when Roland's calm voice cut in.

"Ladies, I hate to ruin your fun but there's trouble at the bar." Duncan swallowed down too big a mouthful of spirits and looked through watering eyes to see what Roland was talking about. His heart sank. Sancha was no longer smiling; unfortunately she also looked angry although not as angry as the Chevalier she was talking too. He grabbed her arm and Duncan tensed.

"Finally!" Riordan murmured next to him.

Sancha snarled something and head-butted the man. Duncan could almost hear the crunching of cartilage and thought, 'Wow!' The man yelled and let her go. Blood flowed between his fingers. "Fucking Warden whore!" Duncan was already moving. As the Chevalier dove for Sancha, Duncan barrelled into him; it was like tackling a wall. He could feel his ribs groan and they both fell. Before the man had a chance to recover Duncan grabbed him by the hair and smashed his head against the floor, the man went limp.

Hands grabbed him from behind and somebody spat in his ear. "Bastard wardens, you're like vermin!" He was lifted off the floor but managed to hook his foot behind the ankle of the man that held him and yanked. With the other foot he shoved himself and the now unbalanced man backwards and down they went. He landed softly on top of the Chevalier who let out a grunt. Using the momentum Duncan rolled backwards and onto his feet.

Riordan's voice cut through the sudden din. "Down!" He ducked as a bottle whizzed past his head and hit a man sneaking up behind him. The Red Gryphon erupted into chaos. Most of the patrons seemed to be fighting and Duncan felt a tiny spark of relief that the place didn't allow weapons in the taproom.

In a corner stood Amaury sending sparks of electricity into any Chevalier he could see, and anybody else who came near. He was surrounded by a bluish glow, his hair stood on end and he was smiling nervously. Vittorio was dancing around nearby, dodging angry blows from one of the Chevaliers whilst spewing Antivan insults. He already had an impressive bruise on his cheek but seemed otherwise unharmed. Roland had three chevaliers clinging to him trying to bring him down; he simply shook them off with an angry bellow and Josian darted in and kicked one of them in the balls. Duncan winced.

Sancha was grappling with another man who didn't wear the coat of arms of a Chevalier but seemed to be an enthusiastic brawler all the same. She was doing the Warden colours proud. "Stand there dreaming and I won't save you ass again!" came Riordan's voice in his ear. Duncan laughed and dodged a swipe from a passing brawler before heading for the mass of bodies that surrounded Roland.

In the confusion he took a glancing blow to the temple that sent his head reeling. Despite that, he heard Josian's sending, loud and succinct, 'Guards!' He twisted and crammed his elbow into the side of his attacker. Following up on the movement he spun and slammed the heel of his hand into the man's face as he blocked the incoming fist with the other arm. There was no time to waste on seeing if the man went down; they needed to get out before the guards arrived. Looking around he saw Riordan step over a downed opponent whilst looking for another target. Blood trickled from a cut above his eye, his eyes were almost feverishly bright and he obviously hadn't heard the sending.

Duncan grabbed his arm and dodged a blow from the startled man. "It's me you idiot. We got to leave, now!" Riordan scowled but didn't argue. The other Wardens had already disentangled themselves from the fight except for Amaury who was bending over a groaning Chevalier as a soft green glow flowed from his hands to the half-conscious man. Duncan saw Vittorio heading for the back door with Sancha in tow and felt a twinge of annoyance. Roland stomped over to Amaury, snatched him up and carried him out.

-o-o-

The night air was cold and full of the stench from the tavern rubbish heap. Duncan saw Roland shoving Amaury out into the narrow lane and followed them with Riordan by his side. Josian's presence was already fading out of reach but he could feel Sancha and Vittorio somewhere up ahead. As they jogged through the semidarkness he could hear Roland complaining in between wheezes. "I can't believe you healed that Chevalier."

"I am a healer!" Even breathless Amaury sounded defensive.

"But they're arrogant wankers, we don't heal arrogant wankers." Roland spoke as if to a very young child.

"Be fair Roland, Amaury heals Vittorio all the time!" Riordan said in a mockingly admonishing tone.

"That's different! He's our wanker."

Duncan had no wish to return to the compound just yet, he was far too wired and the others were safe. He slowed down letting the bickering men get ahead. Eventually he stopped and listened. Nobody was following them, but then he hadn't expected them too. It was too much hassle to go chasing after rowdy bar customers. He didn't know every nook and cranny of Montsimmard the way he once knew the Val but he knew it well enough and had an idea.

"What are you planning?" Riordan asked from the shadows.

"Follow me."

Riordan hesitated. "Don't think I'll make good company tonight, better head out alone."

"Come on! Surely you can survive another day without having your skull cracked open." Duncan headed off down an even narrower lane, stepping carefully now to avoid tripping over the rubbish in the darkness. Riordan said nothing, just followed and for a while all that could be heard was the two men's breathing and the sound of rats skittering out of their way. Eventually they made their way into a small backyard and Duncan steered towards a shed built against the wall. He jumped up, grabbed the eaves and pulled himself up.

"That's it! There's no fucking way you'll get me climbing roofs."

"Come on, don't be such a sissy!" At the glare Riordan gave him he added. "I won't let you fall, trust me." Duncan could see the other man deliberating with himself and added, "We'll go slowly and the easy route."

"If I fall you're a dead man!"

"Not if the fall is high enough."

"Ha ha, very funny." The look Riordan gave him was withering.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "It's a deal, come on." He reached down but Riordan ignored his hand with a scowl and pulled himself up.

Making their way from shed to wall and from wall across roof tops, Duncan finally sat down with his back against a chimney. It was warm from the fire deep inside. Riordan carefully settled next to him, their shoulders touching. The house was close enough to the city wall to give them a view of the pitch black countryside. Here there were no braziers or torches disturbing the darkness, the stars provided the only light. Duncan tilted his head back, stared up at them and felt himself relax. They sat a while in silence before Riordan said rather stiffly. "This is...interesting but how in the Makers name did you find it?"

"When I first joined the Wardens I wasn't very...popular," Duncan probed the memory but it didn't hurt so much anymore, "so I used to go wandering about the city and I found loads of places like this.

"I noticed you would disappear..."

"You kept track of me?" Duncan was reminded of that he initially had Riordan pegged as a man to watch and keep clear off. It seemed the feeling had been mutual.

"No more than the others, but I had you down as someone to stay away from, learned too quickly you did. Then you got on to my game and I had to figure out how to deal with you." Duncan thought he saw flash of teeth from a grin. "Never expected we'd go mouth to mouth though."

"Eh, sorry about that, I was pissed off at Vittorio. Didn't mean to drag you into it."

"Why not? You know nothing gives me greater pleasure than to see him loose it. Have you noticed how he looks like a cow when he does?

Duncan chuckled. "Now when you say it..."

"All in all, that was the best bloody kiss I've ever had! Even if I personally think it's a waste of time."

"I've noticed. You're always in such a bloody hurry to get your rocks off your women must wonder where the fire is.

Riordan scoffed. "If that was supposed to sting it didn't! That's the whole point right, or am I missing something?"

Duncan shook his head. "Not when you put it like that no. You're a rotten kisser by the way; I think I cracked a tooth."

Riordan slapped him on the shoulder. "You're getting soft and we sound like a pair of wenches. Why are we even having this conversation?" There was a moment of silence before Riordan continued. "So you've been watching me."

"What?"

"That's all right I've been watching you too."

"I, eh...are you trying to make me as uncomfortable as you are? And yes, I know you are uneasy, I can feel it!"

"I can feel you too, sometimes."

"You can?"

"Like I said, sometimes, when you are really agitated and only you, not anyone else. They are just the usual taint-blur to me and they drown you out as well."

"If I sent you something, could you hear it?"

Riordan shrugged. "Usually it's just emotions. But I'm pretty sure you can hear me. Remember that time we fought Spawn in Ferelden and you ducked because you thought I had shouted a warning. I didn't, just in my mind."

"Try again." Duncan waited. "You're really scared right now!" He exclaimed, amazed.

"That wasn't it!" Riordan protested.

"That's all I caught." Duncan grinned. "Took some trust to follow me here didn't it?"

"You have no fucking idea!" Riordan shook his head ruefully.

"Hey, I told you I won't let you fall."

"I heard you the first time."

Duncan leaned closer grabbing the other man's arm. "But I don't think you got it right. I won't let you fall!"

Riordan let out a slow breath. "I believe you, but I'm warning you, one reference to how far we are above the ground and I'll strangle you and be done with it!"

Duncan smiled and settled back against the chimney, carefully keeping shoulder contact with Riordan. They both regarded the sky in silence.

"This is a good place, I give you that." Riordan finally offered.

"One of the best." Duncan agreed.


	20. The Calling

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

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><p><strong>The Calling<strong>

"Right, here's where I take off." Ser Eric unexpectedly announced. He reined in his horse and pointed at Duncan. "You there, I'm leaving you in charge till you get this sorry lot home."

Duncan floundered. "Ser?"

Ser Eric took a deep pull from his flask; his hands shook so badly the drink trickled down his chin. "I'm off for the Roads that's what, had my Calling. He crammed the cork back in the flask. Ha! Everyone expects me to botch it but this one I'm getting right." Irritated he waved at the staring Wardens. "Off with you, fuck some women, except you ladies, not unless I'm watching." He leered at Sancha and Renna and waggled his finger. "Get drunk, sooner than you think it will be you."

"But Ser..." Duncan tried again. He'd had his suspicions for quite some time but Ser Eric had never seemed entirely there and it was hard to tell whether it was the drink, the Taint or if the man simply was a bit addled. Recently it had gotten worse but even then Duncan had been unable to tell what caused it.

"Andraste's tits, don't look so crestfallen. Here's your chance, finally you're rid of the old soak and it will no doubt be the first step on a brilliant career." If there was sarcasm in there somewhere, it was lost in the drunken slur.

"I'm coming with you!" Duncan turned and stared open mouthed at Riordan. The others seemed equally astonished.

"Me too, of course!" Duncan blurted without thinking. As his mind caught up with his mouth he realised that what Riordan had offered was the right thing to do. It was a surprise though that Riordan of all people had understood that. But then he'd never shown the disdain for the man that Duncan had seen in the others and to his shame recognised in himself.

Roland was left in charge of bringing rest of the group back to Montsimmard. Except for Duncan and Riordan, Ser Eric was joined by Josian and another elven Warden by the name of Lyselle. Duncan suspected Josian's and Lyselle's their motives had more to do with curiosity than any particular sympathy for Ser Eric. His own motives were not that simple although guilt did play a large part. There had also been something in the look on Riordan's face when he pledged to follow the Senior Warden which made Duncan concerned.

Their small party turned on to the road towards the Frostback Mountains and Orzammar. Whilst new back entrances to the Deep Roads were discovered at infrequent intervals, when a Warden went for his Calling, they tended to go via Orzammar if it was near enough; it was a tradition of sorts.

Normally there would also be a ceremony of some kind, but Ser Eric obviously had decided to forego that particular custom. They travelled slowly, almost like a funeral procession which in a way it was, Duncan reflected. Ser Eric didn't speak much; in fact he seemed almost as oblivious of their company as he always had been. At night he sat quietly drinking until he passed out. Then Riordan would bundle him up and with Duncan's help get him to bed.

They left their horses in the guest stables up at the surface, only bringing the pack mule, before stepping down into the Hall of Paragons that served as entrance hall to Orzammar. Silently they hurried past the rows of statues representing the Paragons. Lava flows, cunningly manipulated by hidden dwarven technology, flowed in channels along the walls, illuminating and warming the place. After the chill air of the Frostback Mountains, Duncan welcomed the warmth. There were dwarves standing in silent contemplation or talking quietly before the statues, their words echoing softly through the hall before being swallowed by the vast space above them. He wondered what it would be like to worship, not some distant mystical being, but people of flesh and blood and whose claim to fame was that they once had invented something or won a battle. Although come to think of it, worshipping the prophet Andraste wasn't much different.

Duncan had seen the famed cathedral of Val Royeaux many times, it was a good place for pickpocketing since people were usually too overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of the place, or perhaps it was the possible presence of the Maker, to keep an eye on their purses. The cathedral paled in comparison to Orzammar though, one of only two surviving cities of a once vast dwarven underground empire. The other cities, together with the Deep Roads that linked them, were long lost to the Darkspawn. The cavern was, like the Hall of Paragons, lit by lava flows that bathed everything in a golden glow. The city was built on tiers that curved along the enormous walls. In the centre was a huge lake of lava which was spanned by a stone bridge. The air smelled of hot stone, exotic spices and the usual ripe smell of a lot of people living very close together. "Andraste's tits it's stuffy in here," Riordan muttered. It was the first time in days that the man had said anything other than 'pass the bread' or 'shut up', the latter when Duncan complained about how he was hogging the tent. And that Duncan had said mostly to keep up some kind of communication, he was not sure Riordan actually slept, except when on horseback.

They hurried after Ser Eric who was moving faster now; for once his gait was quite steady. As they made their way through the throng of dwarves Duncan felt tall and conspicuous. Smells of food wafted off market stalls and the shouts of merchants filled the air. As he caught up with their leader he said. "Ser, don't you want to rest and eat?"

There was a bark of laughter from Ser Eric, "Now what would be the point of that? It would only prolong this whole mess, better get it over with."

The crowds thinned out and the light fell behind them until it only served to emphasize the darkness of the shadows. Ahead of them appeared a set of double doors, far smaller than those they had stepped through a short while earlier, yet they seemed that much more heavy and forbidding, the gate to the Deep Roads. It was guarded by heavily armed dwarves but they silently stepped aside as the group approached.

One of them gave a brisk salute and rumbled, "Wardens." Before barking, "Open them!"

Slowly, with creaking of stone grinding against stone, the doors swung open. A gust of cool, damp air brought with it the smell of dust and decay. Duncan tensed, half expecting Spawn to come pouring through. Ser Eric snatched up a torch from a stand and lit it on a brazier. Feeling awkward now Duncan murmured, "Ser, you should at least take some provisions."

"Wasn't planning on lasting that long." Ser Eric dug out his flask and pulled the cork out with his teeth. Tilting his head back he drained the flask completely before tossing it on the ground. As he turned towards them his haggard face looked like a skull.

"You there, name's Riordan right?"

"That's right Ser." Riordan answered seriously.

"Be careful or you'll end up just like me."

"I will do my best to avoid that Ser."

"Ha! You'll have to do better than that!" Ser Eric gripped Riordan by the shoulder and shook him slightly. "Like me, do you understand? Just like me!"

"I understand!" Riordan's blank face was beginning to look a bit strained.

"Good, very good!" He gave the man a final slap on the back before turning to the others. "Now get your asses out of here, that's my last order, you Duncan, you're in charge now."

"Yes Ser!"

Ser Eric managed to pull off quite a smart salute with his sword before he spun around and marched through the opening without looking back.

"May the light of the Maker go with you." Duncan mumbled as the darkness swallowed the old Warden. Something in his chest felt heavy and made it hard to breath. The doors closed and sealed off the drunken old fool to face the Darkspawn one final time, alone.

"Pay no heed to what he said." Josian said behind him. Duncan looked over at Riordan who seemed shaken. "Everyone knows he's a bit addled. Probably won't even get himself killed properly"

Riordan blanched and for an instant it seemed he would go for Josian. Instead he turned and stalked off, back towards Orzammar.

"You're such a bloody idiot sometimes!" Duncan hissed.

To his surprise Josian swallowed nervously but met his gaze squarely. "Am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"You asked so I will speak my mind." Josian took the deep breath of a man who had been nurturing his speech for a long time. "I know that you and Roland for some reason I can't fathom, seem to find something of value in Riordan." He held up a hand to stop Duncan from protesting. "Please, let me finish." There was a tremor in the man's voice but Duncan was stunned, he had some idea what kind of guts it took from the city elf to speak up like that so he bit back the protest.

"You know that I'm not part of Vittorio's clique. If there is one virtue in Riordan it's the fear he instils in that bastard, but that is not really a virtue is it? It's just another fault. He's unstable and a danger to himself AND us. The world is as it is, Vittorio will survive and rise, Riordan _will _go down."

"And your point is?"

"You are a good man, a good Warden. Don't let him drag you down with him, leave him be! He's as the Maker created him, nothing you can do will change that.

Duncan took a deep breath and spoke stiffly. "Thank you for speaking your mind. Let's go and find the Warden lodgings, they're supposed to be in the Merchant's quarter."

The Merchant's quarters stretched in an almost full circle along the walls of the cavern. Duncan resisted the urge to try and sense Riordan and instead he mulled over Josian's words. Josian was no fool, Duncan would have to apologise to him sooner or later. Maybe the elf was right, Riordan was Blight-bent on self-destruction, no sane man could say otherwise. Perhaps it was best to leave him to it. Duncan restlessly browsed the many stalls that lined the walkway. Some of them carried interesting herbs but nothing that would be of any use to him; the stuff he really wanted wouldn't be found here. He bought some strange meat filled pastry that tasted of mushrooms and went looking for the kind of place that might in fact carry what he did need, somewhere dark and hidden.

"Well now, who would have thought a Warden would find his way down here." The dwarf gave him a toothless smile as Duncan carefully sniffed the dark substance in the vial. He touched the rim and rubbed his fingers together feeling them go numb, it was powerful stuff. "Don't worry, a drop of that will floor a Bronto, trust me." An ironic comment since the dwarf's face showed the kind of honesty only a mother would believe. "I wouldn't lick my fingers if I were you."

Duncan grinned. "I won't, trust me. How much?"

"Usually two silvers but since we're all trusting each other here, I'll give it to you for one and a half."

The price wasn't bad so Duncan carefully dug out some coins trying not to be too obvious about it. This wasn't a place where you flaunted any kind of property if you could avoid it.

"So what brings a Warden to Dust Town? Have you lot finally copped on or are you just here for a spot of sightseeing, thinking of placing a bet at the Provings?"

The sarcasm was obvious. This was where the casteless lived, dead to the rest of Orzammar. Dust Town was full of ghosts. There was no law here but the one you made yourself and Duncan could feel eyes watching him, waiting for some sign of weakness, giving them an opportunity to pounce. That he was a Grey Warden didn't matter here.

"Copped on?"

The merchant rolled his eyes, "To the coming Blight."

"What!" It felt like his stomach had turned to lead and dropped into his boots. He was a Warden, fighting Darkspawn and the Blight was supposed to be his sole purpose, but there hadn't been a Blight for four hundred years and many doubted there would be another one. To hear the dwarf speak of it so naturally shook him.

"Seriously, you surfacers are so clueless. For you the Blight is ancient history, here it's daily life. The Legion is being pushed back further than ever. We lost Bownammar a couple of years ago and you lot never knew." The merchant snorted and shook his head. His face had lost its false good natured expression as he leaned forward and said, "Tell me, what will you do when the Legion falls and Darkspawn swarms the surface? Who will save your sorry assess then?"

"There are still Wardens and we fight." It sounded lame even in Duncan's ears.

"My old man told me the Wardens used to recruit here, even amongst us Dusters, 'no castes amongst the Wardens' he said, but I haven't seen a Warden here for years." Duncan had no idea why dwarves were so rarely recruited. Hardy and strong they were ideal candidates for the Wardens and whilst the average dwarf would rather chew off his own arm than enter the surface, he suspected some of the casteless would be more than willing to give it a shot; it wasn't as if they had anything to loose. There were of course the dwarves own Legion of the Dead who fought daily in the Roads, but they were simply warriors and didn't have the advantage of the Taint. Perhaps after so many years of little purpose, the Wardens had, in fact, grown lax. "Mind you, there are those sad bastards that come down here to die." The merchant sniggered, "Funny old world isn't it, this is our life and you lot come here to die."

To hide his shame and unease Duncan asked, "What are the Provings?"

The dwarf rolled his eyes. "Stone take me!" he huffed before apparently deciding to take pity on the idiot surfacer. "Ask the lot in Orzammar and it's an honourable battle between brave warriors for the favour of the Ancestors. Ask me, it's a way for the nobs at the top to openly stab each other in the back for the good of their purses. You can make a killing on the bets though. Around here we have our own and we're a bit more honest." The merchant grinned. "You know how to wield a weapon and have some coin to spare, you can earn a bit of respect and more coin."

Interested now, with a half-baked idea forming in his head, Duncan asked, "These Provings, can anybody take part?"

Sod Josian! Duncan trusted Riordan like no other. He was the one who voiced the questions that Duncan held back. Riordan had shown him loyalty without expecting any in return and if the man was challenging, what of it? The world already had too many sycophants. An existence without Riordan's nonconformity and blatant disregard for authority seemed...unnatural.

The more he thought about it the more he realised that his initial instincts had been right all along, he should have forced his company on the man. This wasn't one of his usual dark moods, everything just stank of wrong. Duncan thought of Ser Eric. Was he still alive, lost in the Roads? Was he even now being swarmed by Spawn, his back against the wall, or perhaps bleeding out on a cavern floor waiting for it all to end? He swallowed hard, it REALLY felt important to find Riordan.


	21. The lost

A note: Co-written with Gaspode5

Disclaimer: Neither Duncan nor Riordan belongs to us, which is probably just as well.

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><p><strong>The Lost<strong>

Riordan didn't notice the angry glares or the sturdy bodies that jostled him. Ser Eric's words spun madly through his head and despair followed, heavy and cloying. He desperately needed a drink and something to kill, perhaps Josian. Had Duncan not been there...He shook his head. Try as he might he couldn't shut out the voice of Ser Eric, it had taken on a gleeful tone now, 'Like me! Do you understand? Just like me.' Was that what he would become, a halfwit that fell off the horse all the time and pissed himself? Unseeing Riordan followed where his feet took him and only when the lights dimmed and walls closed in did he look around.

Before him ruined houses casting deep shadows in the faint light from the now distant Orzammar. There were people huddling in the semi darkness and talking in small groups. Skinny children dressed in rags played in the rubble amongst odd creatures that looked like a randy rabbit had gotten lucky with a sow. The faces that turned towards him were full of fear and hatred. It stank of garbage and was a mockery of the idyllic street scene. In the corner of his eye Riordan caught movement and turning he saw three armed dwarves in worn leather armour leaning against the remains of a wall, watching him, their tattooed faces hard. Well, if they wanted to try their luck with him they were welcome. He could see them tensing at his approach. "So, where can you get a drink in this shit hole?" he drawled.

There was a long pause before one of them jerked his thumb in the direction of a building that actually had a roof and growled. "Try there, but if I were you stranger I'd go back the way you came before you have an accident." He smirked.

Riordan smirked back. "Luckily I'm not accident prone." He could feel their eyes boring into his back as he left and thought 'Oh please do!' but to his disappointment nothing happened. In his mind Ser Eric sniggered and whispered 'Just like me.'

The tavern was a tavern in so far that it sold booze. The bar was two planks across a couple of crates and behind that, a small mountain of a dwarf guarding an array of bottles. Dwarves were slumped on benches and on the floor, talking quietly, gambling or simply getting drunk. Riordan ignored their suspicious glances and headed for the makeshift bar.

"Whatever you have that wastes you before killing you."

The barman snorted. "That's the only stuff we carry here stranger."

"A bottle then."

"Ha, a few glasses of this and even a Warden such as yourself will be dancing with the Paragons," the barman leaned forward with a conspiratorial smirk on his face, the planks creaked, "but if you're looking for something a bit extra I have just the thing."

Trying not to seem too interested Riordan shrugged, "Bottle first."

The barman shook his head and ducked down behind one of the crates. A moment later Riordan looked down at a chipped glass bottle that had seen much use and small piece of folded up greasy looking paper. "That's ten coppers for the Stalker's Spit and three silvers for the fun stuff."

"What is it?" Riordan picked up the little sachet.

"We call it Golem's Punch on account of once it hits you all your troubles are over. You rub it on your gums but if you mean business, rub it into a cut. Works a treat. Makes you feel like the arse end of a Nug later but it's nothing another 'Punch' can't cure. Wouldn't mix it with the Spit though." Riordan paid but before he withdrew the barman said, "So stranger, where should we ship your body?" He winked.

"I'm sure you already have somewhere in mind."

He settled on the floor against the wall and took a mouthful of Stalker's Spit. The liquid burned his mouth and made his eyes water. 'Like me', echoed through his head. He cursed the old bastard and drank again. The cold knot of despair wouldn't go away and Riordan had a sudden unwelcome vision of Ser Eric emptying a bottle of his favourite Rivaini whiskey before toppling backwards unconscious as a damp stain spread across the front of his trousers.

Angrily he tugged off his gloves and loosened the bracers before pulling the dagger from his boot. With grim satisfaction he cut a deep nick on the inside of his wrist. He glared at the blood that beaded on the skin, Tainted from the day he was born. After a brief hesitation he made a second cut on the other wrist. He unfolded the paper and sat there staring at the dark slightly oily looking substance that was smeared on the inside.

If Duncan saw him now...It was strange that he, who often saw more clearly than most, seemed to have a blind spot when it came to Riordan. He'd tried to put the man off, but to no avail. One day though, Duncan would see him for what he was and despise him.

Ser Eric sniggered in his head and hot anger flooded him, 'To the Black City with fucking Duncan!' A pair of boots that looked decidedly un-dwarven stepped into his field of vision. He glared at them, then higher up and higher yet again until he met Duncan's eyes that looked black in this light. 'Wonderful!' He thought viciously, the Maker really was crapping on him today. "What!"

Duncan crouched and smoothly handed Riordan the dagger he'd discarded, hilt first. "Next time use mine, I keep them cleaner." He said calmly.

Still bristling Riordan took it, painfully aware of the blood that dripped from his wrist. He might have overdone that one a bit. "Were you spying on me?" He didn't expect the faint smile that appeared on Duncan's face.

"Not exactly, we think the same you and I sometimes. As for the rest, take it whichever way you want but I just used the Taint, who's to stop me, you?" He shrugged. "Anyway, right now there's a small army of Dusters waiting to get their teeth into a couple of Grey Warden's. There are butts that need kicking and possibly money to be won. Now the question is, do I have to do it on my own or will you give me a hand?"

Interested despite himself Riordan said, "Dusters?"

"It's what they call themselves here in Dust Town."

"Seems fitting. Look I..."

Duncan snorted. "I know you're drunk, it wouldn't be the first time." He picked up the bottle, sniffed it and took a mouthful. "Maker's balls!" he wheezed, "more of this and you'll find a new meaning for the expression 'dead drunk'." He carefully put the bottle down and Riordan found himself suppressing a smile. "So, you with me?"

"Can't let you have all the fun now, can I?"

Duncan surprised him by looking away. "Riordan, I..." he sighed and shook his head, "never mind." The sudden smile was wry. "I don't mind sharing this once." With that he stood up and Riordan began to rise. After a brief hesitation he snatched up the Golem's Fist and glanced towards his friend. Duncan had seen it, of course he had. Duncan saw bloody everything but his face was carefully neutral. He wasn't going to judge, he never did.

There was a strange twisting feeling in Riordan's chest as he followed the man out of the tavern. "So what's this fight?"

"They call it Provings and seems to be a bit like a tourney although the Dusters have a less formal version of it and it's open to anybody. Strictly speaking it's not legal." Duncan flashed him a toothy smile. "Seems like there's a lot of dwarves who would like the honour of showing the Grey Wardens how it's done."

Excitement hissed through Riordan and made his heart beat faster. "Let's show them our way then, this should be good."

Duncan grinned wickedly now. "Don't get too cocky, these guys know what they're doing."

"Come on! They are still half our size!"

-o-o-o-

"Andraste's tits!" Riordan groaned as he flopped down with his back against the wall. He was aching in parts he didn't know he had.

"Half our size, remember?"

"Shut the Blight up, but I'll admit that renegade Quiet Sister was bloody fast!"

Duncan shook his head as he handed over a drink the barman at the Tapsters had promised to numb anything. "Silent Sister Riordan, Silent Sister."

"Whatever," Riordan accepted the tankard, "bloody good fighter anyway, punched like an Ogre!"

"She was." Duncan agreed, easing his body down next to him. Riordan realised they must look like a couple of thugs speckled with blood and covered in bruises as they were and the customers of Tapsters gave them a wide berth.

"So, how much did we make?"

Emptying his purse Duncan said, "Quite a lot, I haven't seen this much money in one place for a long time."

Riordan smiled through the caked blood on his face. "You keep it then."

"Fuck no! Half's yours."

"It's all yours but in return I want you to promise me you'll kill me if I ever become like him."

"What?"

"You know what I mean! Nothing fancy, just kill me."

"Sure, if it makes you feel better."

"It does, believe me it really does."

"You don't have to pay me for that promise though, you know that?" Duncan said wryly.

"I just like to be on the safe side."

Outside the Warden lodgings they stopped and leaned against the parapet that surrounded the lava. Riordan stared down into the glowing heat feeling the dry air flow over his face. Quickly, before he had time to change his mind, he dug out the sachet of Golem's Fist and dropped it. There wasn't even a puff of smoke as it vanished. When he looked up Duncan was looking at him, saying nothing. Riordan had to look away from those knowing eyes and found himself staring in the direction of the gate to the Roads. Images of Ser Eric being swallowed up by the darkness were rolling around in his mind and then, uncomfortably, Ser Eric was replaced with Duncan. It was suddenly hard to breathe. "When you go, I go too." He looked at his friend and saw that Duncan knew exactly what he was saying.

The man smiled crookedly. "Fat chance you'll survive that long the way you're going."

Riordan grinned, suddenly feeling a lot lighter. "I might give it a try though."

"That would be appreciated. Duncan answered gravely.


	22. The narrow escape

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5

* * *

><p><strong>The narrow escape<strong>

Riordan started upright as Duncan crashed into the room. The woman next to him, a serving wench from downstairs if he remembered correctly, gave a startled squeak and yanked the stained sheets up to her chin.

"Get up; we got to leave now!" Duncan snapped.

Shaking his head to clear it from the haze of sleep and booze, Riordan lowered the slim dagger he'd grabbed without thought. "Leave, now, why?" Duncan's shirt was undone and his trousers rode dangerously low on his hips. Riordan noted he was barefoot. Seeing the usually immaculate man like this was weird enough to clear some of the fug from his mind.

Duncan glared wild eyed at him. "Because that woman we met last night was _NOT_ impossible to get and her husband is _NOT_ out of town!" He dashed to the window and threw open the shutter as he spoke.

"Ha, never thought you had it in you!" Riordan exclaimed.

"Well now you know! Come on, we can make it across the rooftops if we're quick."

"Are you out of your fucking mind! There's no way I'm going scrabbling around chimneys with you again. Besides I'm sloshed and I see no reason I should break my neck because _YOU_ put your dick in the wrong hole." He flopped back on the bed and watched the other man looking out.

Duncan appeared to inspect the roof which was almost on level with the windowsill and his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke. "I gave her your name obviously. Lucky, since she spilled it all to her husband while I hung outside her window. She must have liked me though, she gave him your description," he turned around, grinning broadly, "so technically you're the one in trouble."

Riordan propped himself up on his elbow and looked at his friend in admiration. "Obviously! You sly bastard! Would never have thought of that."

"Sober up once in a while and your brain might see some action!" Duncan called over his shoulder as he slipped through the narrow opening and disappeared. Riordan swore as he heard shouts from downstairs. He frantically laced up his trousers and was grabbing for his weapons as the clanking of armoured men ascending the stairs reached his ears. Swallowing a sudden fear he dove headlong through the window and landed heavily on his shoulder. He would have rolled right off the sloping roof had not Duncan grabbed him. The man was scowling angrily.

"You never, _EVER_ go head first!" He hissed letting go of Riordan to turn and kick the shutter back into place.

"_NOW_ you tell me gutter rat!" Riordan turned onto his stomach and the pair flattened themselves against the roof. It was slick with rain and moss and he could feel moisture seeping through his tunic. Cursing under his breath he fumbled to buckle on his weapons' harness, his leather armour was beyond reach, left behind in the room, the Commander was going to love that. Over the sound of his beating heart he could hear armed men barging into the room.

"He's gone!" There were sounds of searching and a shriek, suddenly a voice exclaimed, "The window!"

The friends looked at each other. Duncan flashed Riordan a grin, his teeth startlingly white in the dark face, and gave him a shove to get him moving. "Head for the ridge!"

They managed to reach it just as the window burst open and a voice exclaimed, "There he is, there are two of them!" Another responded. "Kill them both!"

There was a twang and Duncan gave Riordan another shove. "Jump!" he bellowed. They both tumbled down on the other side of the ridge and slid until Duncan managed to twist and hook his arm around a chimney. Riordan got hold of Duncan's trouser leg and for a heart stopping moment they both hung there. He wondered through the churning fear if Duncan's trousers would stay on or if all this could get embarrassingly funny for the brief time it would take him to fall to his death far below.

"Um, Riordan!"

"What!"

"Let go!"

"What...oh." Duncan was gripping his wrist and apparently they weren't falling anywhere. As he crawled up to cling to Duncan and the chimney he snarled, "Maker's sodding hairy balls! I can hardly stand and you expect me to do acrobatics on the fucking roof." He was surprised to see Duncan view him with concern and suddenly the man reached out and cupped Riordan's face. Before he had a chance to react, a warm calm tinged with excitement flowed through him, taking with it some of the fear.

"Better? I'm sorry I shouldn't have but you were in a bad way..."

"Fine." Riordan ground out, not sure if it was. A quarrel slammed into the roof next to his hand.

Duncan's head whipped around. "Oh for Blights sake...come on!" He was already running and nimbly dodged another quarrel. "Run!" And they ran -until they ran out of roof.

Duncan tugged at his arm. "That shed, down there, jump!"

"Are you crazy?" Riordan stared into the yawning chasm between him and the shed roof.

Just do it!"

Pushing aside all thought and concentrating on Duncan's voice Riordan leapt, too far. Duncan caught up just in time to drag him to safety. "Sobering up?" He sounded entirely too cheerful.

"Very quickly! Nothing like a few quarrels whistling around your ears for that. Remind me to kill you later though."

"Sure." Duncan jumped up and grabbed the eaves of the next roof. He gave Riordan the impression of a large sleek cat as he smoothly pulled himself up. He'd obviously done this many times before. Riordan followed, still cursing and Duncan sniggered. "Perhaps if you saved your breath..."

"Screw you!" Riordan ground out. They crested the ridge of the roof as two more quarrels hit the tiles right next to them spraying shards of clay. They dove down on the other side.

Next roof!" Duncan shouted and nodded towards a building which was of height with the one they were currently on. The gap between the houses was wide though.

"You go first this time." Riordan rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs. Fear was rolling through him and every instinct screamed at him to just lay down and hug the roof.

"Try to pay attention, nice and smooth, that's the trick." Riordan watched in trepidation as his friend leapt and as if he had just used up all his luck for the day, Duncan landed on a birds nest and slipped. Riordan could only stare in horror as the man fell only to catch himself on the eaves. He hung there cursing. There was shouting somewhere in the distance from the guards. "Come on, just bloody jump!" Duncan's voice sounded strained. Riordan jumped, leaving his heart and stomach behind. If he had harboured any foolish dreams of helping the man they died as his bare feet skidded on the slimy roof. There wasn't even time to get afraid, more afraid, before he hung next to his friend.

"Nice and smooth." Duncan quipped.

"Don't see you doing any better." Riordan glanced down. "Guess we're done for. Won't take them long to get out in the street now." With grisly death seemingly inevitable he suddenly felt calm. "What's your preference, splatted on the street or skewered by a bolt?" Getting only a grunt from the other man he turned his head as much as he dared. Duncan was swinging sideways and twisted in a way that looked unpleasant and difficult. Suddenly he let go and dropped gracefully onto a balcony.

"Come now! Swing to the left." he called.

"Sod you!"

"There they are!" Bolts hit the wall next to Riordan's head and he saw Duncan throw himself down on the balcony floor. Gritting his teeth Riordan twisted and swung, praying to whomever might be listening that his numb fingers were still doing what they were supposed to. As he let go something hit him hard but he landed softly on top of Duncan.

"Nicely done!" the man grunted.

Riordan rolled off him and panted, "Not much of an option." White hot pain stabbed him in the side but there was no time to check for damage. They staggered up and Duncan kicked the door open. As they dashed through what appeared to be a bedroom they were followed by outraged shouts and a vase which thumped into Riordan's back.

Duncan led them on a complicated route through several buildings and across a few backyards before they stopped and stood panting side by side, hands on knees. "I think we lost them." He gasped.

Riordan sank down by the wall. Duncan's knowledge of Val Royeaux was nothing short of astounding but he was in no shape to appreciate it. "About time, I got hit."

All concern now, Duncan crouched to inspect the injury. "Andraste's tits Riordan, why didn't you say?" he groused.

"Well it wasn't as if we had time to stop for a nice little chat, besides what would have been the point?" When Riordan turned his head he could see a quarrel lodged in the muscles in his side, his shirt and trousers were saturated with blood, it looked nasty but he guessed he'd had worse. Right now he was simply relieved to be on the ground again.

Duncan tut-tutted. "What is it with you and crossbows?"

"So it's suddenly my fault now! I'm telling you, a brat fires a crossbow on the other side of town I can guarantee I'll get hit." Riordan winced as Duncan touched the quarrel.

"We're going to have to get this sorted before we join the others. Mind you, they probably wouldn't mind an extra day here." He helped Riordan to his feet.

"No offence," Riordan muttered, "but I'd be a whole lot happier if you didn't do the sorting."

"No problem, this is the Val. I know a no-questions-asked healer not far from here."

The world was spinning round and round. Riordan tried to focus on something and found Duncan's face. The man was smiling in that dazzling way that had the wenches swooning all over the place. Unfortunately the effect was spoiled by somebody sticking needles in the back of Riordan's shoulder and suddenly an enormous beak blotted out the view of Duncan. It turned and a black beady eye surrounded by colourful feathers peered down at him. All Riordan could do was to lie there and stare back in confusion, his body appeared fused to whatever surface he was lying on.

"Ah yes, meet Andraste." Duncan said. Riordan looked blankly at him. "The parrot you fool!" he added.

"Wha?" Was all Riordan could managed.

"Told you I knew a good healer."

Riordan drew a deep breath and tried to look past the parrot at Duncan who now crouched next to him, he shifted and clenched the muscles in his side. "Very competent, who is he?" It came out in a husky whisper.

Duncan's deceptively honest eyes slipped away. "Well, he mostly works in um...other areas and is always grateful to treat a human once in a while. Cheap too."

"Wait, what do you mean, other areas?"

"Pets."

"You let a pet-healer dig an arrow out of my back!"

"Now now, don't get excited. I've been here a few times myself, he's really good, and some of the animals he treats are quite valuable," Duncan added in a placating tone, "like Andraste, I think she's taken a shine to you!"

"Flaming sword, flaming sword!" squawked Andraste.

"I have a Prophet with claws on my head?" Riordan tried to flail at the bird but his hand just flopped helplessly.

"You're making no sense now, guess it's the tranquilizer, it's really intended for ponies. Gives a good buzz though."

With a huge effort Riordan managed to grab Duncan by the front of his tunic. He pulled his face towards him and slurred, "Kill the bloody bird!"

"Pfft, that's no way to speak to a woman in love. You did good up there by the way, a few years back we would have made quite a team."

"No way I..." It was getting impossible to keep his eyes open, he felt Duncan squeeze his arm.

As from far away he heard a timid slightly reedy voice say, "I so love to work on humans, it was incredibly unfair of the Healers Guild to ban me, but are you sure he won't remember anything?"

"I can't believe it either. You're the best, Alphonse. Just give him a double-pony, I'll handle the rest."


	23. The swimming lesson

A note: Co-written with Gaspode5.

* * *

><p><strong>The Swimming Lesson<strong>

The afternoon sun was slowly baking the back of Duncan's neck. Little rivulets of sweat trickled down to be absorbed by the clothes beneath his armour, which now felt made of lead. Even so he was relieved to be out of Vershiel and rid of that spoiled brat of a merchant's son he and Riordan had been escorting.

He glanced over at his friend whose face had taken on a distinctly ruddy look in the heat. When the Commander had given Duncan free rein to pick a fellow Warden for this mission, for him, there had been no other possible choice. He knew how Riordan hated the barrack life in Montsimmard and was only too happy to offer him some respite. Besides, if it was safety the Commander wanted to provide the client, Riordan WAS a bloody good fighter. It had not been a popular choice as Commander Mathilde had spent some time telling him. He'd stuck with it and subsequently been told that any fuck ups caused by Riordan were on his head. In the end though, it had proven Riordan who knew how to handle the brat's annoying snobbishness whilst Duncan found himself lost in a quagmire of social rules. Riordan never ceased to amaze him.

"What?" Riordan was looking back at him with a frown.

Duncan shrugged. "Nothing, just thinking."

"I hate when your 'thinking' comes with a smirk like that. Spit it out man!"

"Fine," Duncan sighed, "I was just wondering where you learned all that stuff, you know, the upper crust talk, how to be..." he shrugged, "I don't know, posh?"

Riordan grimaced. "It wasn't easy, trust me, I wanted to strangle that little prick so badly but I figured I owed you one for bringing me, and yes, I know what the Commander said, Vittorio made sure everyone did.

"But he's still alive right?"

"He might have some lingering issues, but I'm sure the healers have sorted them out by now."

"For Fuck's sake Riordan!"

"I made sure he wouldn't die, OK! And that was for you, not me. There's hardly a mark on him and he won't be eager to tell anyone what happened, trust me."

Duncan glanced at his friend whose face was predictably hidden by his hair. The man had an odd way of showing loyalty but it still made Duncan's chest feel like it was going to burst open.

"Was that another thing you 'just happened to know how to do?'" he said jokingly.

"You could say it was something I learned together with my _'posh_' manners. Didn't much enjoy the lessons but I was only a kid at the time. In later years I've discovered it to be quite useful."

The words sounded like they were ground out between Riordan's teeth and the grin he turned on Duncan had nothing to do with humour. There was such hatred in his eyes Duncan almost flinched. Abruptly Riordan looked away. "I can smell water and it's too bloody hot to ride any further today. Let's see if we can find it." With those words he urged his horse off the road, leaving Duncan to stare at his back.

"Wait a minute, how can you smell water?"

Duncan shook his head trying to clear the water from his ears. He was standing to his waist in a small lake, feet planted firmly on the rocky bottom.

The slight chill in the evening air made the dark water seem warm and smooth as silk. Only the occasional ripples from fishes rising to catch insects disturbed the surface and the wake of Riordan's long slow strokes as he swam towards his friend. A short distance away he simply disappeared. Duncan backed a few steps scanning his sides. The bastard could pop up anywhere. The ripples from Riordan faded and there was still no sign of him. When he finally re-appeared it was silently and carefully out of range.

"I wish I could do that." Duncan said wistfully.

"Why not? You can swim, even if it looks more like drowning." Riordan was turning in the water like a bloody fish. He seemed to have recovered from his foul mood.

"Not in deep water."

"It's the same moron."

"No," Duncan said with absolute certainty, "it's not! " Riordan smiled and sank quietly beneath the surface again. The other man eyed the fading ripples suspiciously.

Suddenly Riordan surfaced right at his side, grey eyes challenging. "Do you trust me?"

"Is that a trick question?" Duncan backed a few more steps.

"I can teach you, but you have to trust me."

Duncan rolled a number of answers around his mind. "I guess so."

Riordan laughed. "Well, if that's the best you can offer." He fell back, disappeared and shot up right in front of Duncan who started. "Your problem is that you are trying to keep head and shoulders above water, do you breathe with your shoulders? No? Mouth or nose is enough, right?"

"Riiight."

"So fill your lungs and just lie back, you'll pop to the surface in no time."

Duncan tried but the moment the water closed above his head he panicked and began to thrash around. He stood up, wiped the water out of his eyes and glared balefully at his friend.

Unperturbed Riordan gave a snort. "Come on. You can do better than that! He moved to stand behind Duncan. "Here, I've got you and I won't let you drown. Now just let yourself fall back."

The familiarity of Riordan's calloused hand made Duncan relax enough to wait the precious heartbeats until his face simply bobbed up. The hand on his neck was barely touching, he was floating. Grinning like a fool he glanced up at the other man. The setting sun made every drop on Riordan's skin sparkle like jewels. His voice was low and soothing. "Easy breathing now, no gulps." Duncan felt a thrill of excitement, he was really doing it.

"Can I turn?"

Riordan smiled. "Sure, but keep your calm, nose above water is enough, and you don't die from a dunking either, remember that."

Duncan rolled and predictably got his face under water, a nudge in his stomach sent him to the surface. He kept his hands out to the sides to keep himself steady and blinked in astonishment. "That's all?"

"Don't sound so disappointed but yes, that's pretty much it. Trust yourself, I'm below you and I'm not drowning." Duncan felt Riordan's body sliding underneath him. The heat that unfurled in the pit of his stomach caught him by surprise but he got distracted by the sudden realisation that they were out in deep water. How had that happened? He panicked but again the other man's hand was there and the voice spoke calmly. "Remember what you know." Duncan took a deep breath and relaxed. Against all odds the water was no different here; no sucking depths, just Riordan. 'Maker...'

"There you are! The rest are just ghosts in your brain." Riordan sounded genuinely pleased.

Duncan grinned despite his confusion. "Blight and blood!" He rolled again and he could feel Riordan's chin next to his own.

When Duncan sank a bit the other man nudged him to the surface with a hand against his lower back. "Trust yourself, breathe easy." Riordan murmured.

"Now turn and we'll swim to the shore!" Duncan turned and followed, it wasn't pretty but it worked. When he could stand again he fell backwards and allowed himself to float back to the surface. It felt wonderful. He did it three more times. "Thank you, this is amazing!" he exclaimed. "I mean, really, thank you."

"No need, finally I got to give you something in return for putting up with me."

"This is amazing." Duncan repeated closing his eyes with a smile and letting his body drift. The sun warmed his face and coloured his eyelids red.

"Yeah, it is."

Duncan swam back to where Riordan was standing. As he rose that feeling was back in his chest and he opened his mouth to once again try to explain the extent of his gratitude and that there really was no need for Riordan to give anything back. Riordan's smile had been replaced by the bland expression he used when he was hiding something. Any words Duncan might have had prepared spluttered out and disappeared. They stared silently at each other until Riordan abruptly said, "I'm starving." He waded for the shore as he spoke over his shoulder. "I got some nice stuff in Vershiel and a couple of bottles of booze that will put hairs on your chest, and in your ears and nose too..."

Riordan looked across the flames to where Duncan was sitting doing something nasty with a small vial of Maker knew what and one of his knives. This was one reason it was a good idea to exercise caution when rummaging through Duncan's gear. There were enough poisons to kill an army of Spawn in there. The firelight cast highlights over his sharp cheek bones and the prominent nose. For once the long hair had been allowed to escape the customary ponytail. As if sensing Riordan's scrutiny Duncan suddenly looked up and Riordan was caught unawares. Silently he cursed his foolishness, as if things weren't bad enough already. He was still trying to get to grips with what happened earlier in the lake, that too familiar feeling he got as his hand brushed over Duncan's stomach. Andraste's tits! What had that been about? Riordan realised he was clenching his fists and forced himself to relax. He needed a woman that was it; his twisted mind was playing dirty tricks on him. Duncan smiled, that ridiculously boyish smile that for once made him look his age and asked "You ok?"

"Sure, just wondering. Don't you ever get that stuff on yourself by accident?" He was certain he'd managed to keep his voice light, yet Duncan raised a quizzical eyebrow at him and he suddenly felt transparent.

But Duncan only said wryly, "If I did I wouldn't be sitting here now," and continued with his preparations. The man didn't push, he never did. That was only one of far too many things about Duncan that Riordan liked. Duncan could talk blood out of a stone but to Riordan's knowledge he'd never used that skill on him. No, he'd slipped under Riordan's guard the hard way, by showing trust even when undeserved and he had given of himself again and again and meanwhile, Riordan thought bitterly, he had gotten nothing in return. Vittorio's voice slithered into his mind. _'He's blind! He called you brave, a great Warden. Bah! At least the Commander knows you are from a rotten stock.' _Another unwelcome memory crawled out of the darkness in his soul.

_"Bah! They are rotten stock one and all!" Riordan hears one of the men at arms mutter as the sound of his brothers' angry voices recede. He's quivering with relief from the safety beneath the low bench in the guardroom._

_"They may be, but one of them is going to be our next master."_

_"I'll be gone before that happens."_

_"Better light a candle to Andraste for that. You know what they say, Lord Cock breed good sheep but rotten sons." There is a snigger._

_"Pity he's got more son's than sheep. I'm out of here after this season anyway. What was that about just now?"_

_"Looking for the dark one as usual, well they aint barging in here, this is our place, a man deserves some peace when he's off-duty."_

_"The bastard?"_

_"That one ain't no bastard, just looks like his mother, that's all. A raven haired beauty she was, some said she was Chasind but that's just crap. That one could give you a boner just walking past." Riordan hardly dares to breath, he's never heard anyone refer to his mother as anything but 'the whore'._

_"That was before my time, but they do say there's no smoke without a fire."_

_"That may be but the Lord was getting old and jealous and got a bit heavy handed keeping her in line. Guess he overdid it since one day she was gone and so was the new huntsman."_

_"Well there's no risk anyone will run off with his current wife." There is the sound of somebody leaving and Riordan's heart nearly stops when the remaining man suddenly speaks._

_"You can come out now, must be a bit cramped under there." The voice doesn't sound hostile and Riordan has a question so he crawls out._

_"Thank you Ser."_

_"I've a bunch of kids of my own and if anyone of them was treated the way your brothers treat you I'd thrash the culprit within an inch of his life, but don't expect me to do this again. I'm too old to lose this job."_

_"I understand." Riordan understands perfectly, this is how things work. "You said you knew my mother."_

_"Hah, I've seen your mother, that's not the same thing." _

_Riordan shakes his head impatiently. "What I meant was, would you know where she might have gone?"_

_The man looks at him with eyes that seem sad. "No and if I were you I'd pray that she is far far away."_

_"Or dead?"_

_"That's right lad. You've got a good head on you, don't let the others know." The man hands him a bottle from the table. "Here, go somewhere and forget all about it."_

He did, he had been ten or thereabouts.

"Riordan?" He started out of his reverie to find Duncan eying him.

"Yes," he answered, shaking off the lingering cobwebs of the past, "what?"

"I've been trying to hand you the bottle for ages without success, that's quite unlike you!" Duncan grinned. "Are you sure you're OK?"

Riordan had a vision of two faces, one young and smiling, one old with a grizzled beard and tired eyes. He sighed. "Hand it over and I will be."


	24. The way we don't play

**A Note: **Co-written with Gaspode5. I won't turn this entry into one long tirade on how how happy and grateful we both are for the massive reviews the last week (but we ARE!). Jaden, we cannot thank you enough for recommending our story! Humble thanks to KS45, Marina Bocuzzi, paulaH and GJ, wintryone, Liso66 and double hugs to FenZev, may you find Elves in a forest near you!**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: **Bioware owns almost all, darn them.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Way We Don't Play<strong>

The night was still young and full of promise. Duncan wove his way along one of the main streets of Montsimmard towards the Warden compound, with an arm around a new recruit he'd befriended at the Red Gryphon. In the manner of the happily drunk they had by now been brothers forever. One of the junior Warden's on guard duty at the gates shouted "Is there anything left to drink in that hole or did you finish it all?"

"Don't worry, there's plenty of milk left!" Duncan taunted and ignored the curses that followed him and is new friend through the gate. As they entered the compound he spotted Amaury, Roland and a few others exiting the bathhouse, a rather luxurious Tevinter relic with heated pools. They had several scantily clad women hanging off them and he suddenly wanted one for himself. Abandoning his new comrade who staggered off to be ill in the bushes he headed over to the others and asked. "Any left inside?"

"Pah, only your pet and the ugliest wench in the entire city." Vittorio spat.

"I take it you mean Riordan?" It was mildly amusing the lengths Vittorio would go to, to avoid saying Riordan's name whenever possible.

"Who else? With a bit of luck his puta has drowned him by know!"

"You're just jealous because he found the one with the nicest tits." Roland clapped the Antivan on the back, ignoring the spluttered protests.

The idea of getting clean and laid at the same time was very appealing and Riordan had never been selfish with his women, Duncan thought wryly as he opened the door to the bathhouse. As he wound his way down towards the heart of the labyrinthine structure the air got humid and warm. He could smell soap, mould and the lights on the walls took on a soft halo in the thickening mist. The only sound that could be heard was his shuffling footsteps and water dripping in the distance. Before entering the main bath area he stopped and kicked off his boots. He could make out two figures, a man and a woman, sitting at the near end of one of the pools, the man on the edge with his legs in the water, the woman with her back against it and the top of her ample breasts visible above the water. At this point he couldn't tell if it was the humid air or the many mugs of Orlesian wine he had drunk, which caused the figures to blur. Padding over to the pool he squatted down to touch Riordan's shoulder. The man looked up startled, clearly far gone in drink. His face lit up in a lopsided grin.

"Duncan, why don't you join us?" He gestured magnanimously at the pool in general. "you could practice your swimming."

The woman smiled slightly blearily. "Oh your friend _is_ handsome!" she piped up, evidently also sozzled. She giggled and gave both men a flirtatious look. "This will be something to tell the others. I get the two Wardens all the girls talk about." Duncan shot Riordan a glance. The woman frowned. "You aren't the jealous type are you?"

Riordan reached out to find a discarded bottle of wine, cursing when it turned out to be empty and directed his answer to Duncan as if the woman had ceased to exist. "Help yourself, if you don't mind sloppy seconds."

With the bosom Duncan had in his field of vision right now he couldn't have cared less. It took him some time and near falls on the slimy mosaic floor to get out of his clothes. When finally naked he noticed with dismay that the woman was snoring away happily, fast asleep and her head awkwardly tilted back over the rounded edge of the pool.

"Blight! I'm horny." He grumbled as he pulled her halfway out, leaving her feet dangling in the water. Riordan had found another bottle and was working the cork open.

"Why not use her then? All the parts are still there as far as I can tell."

"You're kidding."

"Suit yourself." Riordan passed the wine.

"You would actually do that?" Duncan asked incredulously as he took the bottle.

"Why not, less babbling." Duncan laughed as he slid into the water and settled comfortably next to his friend. Aside from the dripping the only sound was the soft snoring from the woman. After a while Riordan murmured, "This is what I like about you, the silences."

"So why are you the one constantly breaking them?" Duncan turned and prodded the woman. There was a slight hitch in her snoring and then nothing. "Maker's hairy balls! She won't come around until Satinalia and unless a live one turns up soon, even you will start to look good."

"Ha, you're so sloshed!" Riordan smiled around the rim of the bottleneck.

Duncan rested his arms on the ledge. "No more than you!" He grabbed Riordan's arm and gave it a tug, throwing the other man off balance. Bottle and body hit the water simultaneously.

"Are you insane? That was the last of the wine!" Riordan spluttered furiously taking a swipe at Duncan's head.

"Oh relax! You don't have to pass out every time." Duncan snorted, deflecting the blow.

"You know nothing." Riordan muttered settling back against the edge of the pool." Duncan sighed.

"Fine, be like that! Look, if you insist on getting completely wasted later, I'll come with you. I'll even drag you home."

Riordan closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "No, you're probably right. I've had enough." Absentmindedly he took a swig from the sorry watered-down wine, earning himself a smile and a shake of the head from Duncan. After a few attempts to put the bottle up on the ledge he passed it to the other man, threw an arm around his neck and hung his head on his shoulder. "Try to keep me from drowning will you."

Duncan sighed and put the bottle aside trying not to shove Riordan. As he looked at his friend he saw a tiny dribble of wine on his chin. Without conscious thought he reached out to wipe it off with his thumb, stopping just short of the corner of his mouth. He felt an unexpected frisson of excitement. He liked the way Riordan's mouth would sometimes curve into an almost reluctant crooked smile when he was amused, in fact he _really_ liked Riordan's mouth.

Suddenly he was acutely aware of their proximity. Everywhere their bodies touched became centers of sensation, Riordan's breaths, settled in a sleeping rhythm, became scalding against his skin. What was wrong with him? This was a man; he had no interest in men. A tantalising voice whispered in his head that this wasn't just a man, this was Riordan, _this_ was different. At the lake he'd felt something similar but had been able to ignore the slight tingle of excitement. Now an arousal that was almost painful spiked through him and he found himself mesmerized by the slow pulse on Riordan's neck. He let his thumb continue over the other man's lips and dipped his head down, breathing in his nearness. "What are you doing?" Riordan murmured drowsily but Duncan couldn't help but notice that his friend didn't pull away.

"I like this." Duncan murmured, lost in these new sensations.

A smile played over the other man's lips. "Yes, yes, I love you too, just give me a moment. We'll go to The Eel and get you under a whore and me under a table."

Duncan slipped his hand along Riordan's jaw, feeling the prickle of the stubble, it was different and right. Very carefully he ghosted his lips against Riordan's cheek. "That's not what I meant..."

Riordan's head jerked up and his eyes snapped open. He caught Duncan's hand and pulled away. All Duncan saw in his face was suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I...I was just messing, I didn't mean..."

"What didn't you mean?"

It felt as if he had been slapped. "All right all right, I'm sorry!" He raised his hands. "It was just a bit of fun."

Riordan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I see." His voice was flat.

Duncan swallowed and said jokingly. "Yes, you know, having a bit of fun, playing games. People do that."

Riordan clearly didn't take the hint but continued to regard him intently. "Is that what you think it would be, a game?"

"Come on! You do it all the time. You're always all over Vittorio, as if it's all one big joke." Duncan protested, silently cursing his drunken stupidity.

"So, you want to play do you?" He could feel the shift in Riordan that spelled danger, in some strange way it only refuelled his excitement. Riordan's hand shot out, catching him by the back of the neck drawing him close enough to feel the other man's hot breath on his face. He inhaled it, feeling Riordan's hand clench painfully in his hair as their lips brushed against each other.

Riordan's lips moved against his when he spoke. "This is why you and I don't play this way anymore." Duncan was released so suddenly he fell backwards into the water. When he resurfaced the other man was already gathering up his clothes with movements that spoke of anger.

"What did you do that for?" Duncan asked as he clung on to the side of the pool. The other man stilled but didn't turn. Torn between frustrated desire, humiliation and confusion, Duncan continued. "So when the joke is on you it's suddenly not funny anymore?" He hated the hurt in his voice; he had been aiming for something lighter.

Riordan grabbed the remaining garments from the floor and was gone.


	25. The rift

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Series of hugs to all who has written wonderful reviews e.g. ALL OF YOU! You make our day!

**Disclaimer:** The usual

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><p><strong>The rift<strong>

When Josian materialised with the junior scout in tow, his usually vaguely worried expression was grim. "They're holed up in a cavern at the top of a ravine and there seems to be a lot more of them than the report said. Also I'm not certain but I think there might be an Emissary with them."

"Smart Spawn, what is the world coming to?" Roland puffed as he removed his helmet; his hair was plastered to his head with sweat.

Josian nodded towards Duncan, "We could have used you," before glancing over at Ser Abelard. Riordan gave a snort of disdain and earned himself a dirty look from their leader. Abelard was of an Orlesian noble family, a terrible snob and an idiot to boot, but he had brought with him a hefty donation, a typical example of Warden Politics gone wrong. If Abelard had any redeeming features at all, it was that Vittorio hated him. Duncan was holding himself carefully in check now, but Riordan could see that slight twitch in his hands that indicated that his patience was wearing thin. Unusually quickly too.

Riordan settled on the ground next to Roland, any brewing argument could manage perfectly well without him. The Orlesian indicated Duncan with his head. "Did you do his woman or something?"

Riordan winced. "Sort of."

"Bah, it'll pass. We'll find him a good solid farmer's girl with tits like wagon wheels and he'll get over it." Roland paused thoughtfully. "That Bellis girl...

Riordan managed a grin. "Good thinking." He hated the fact that Roland had noticed the rift between himself and Duncan but he owed him. It was Roland who had dragged him across the courtyard yesterday, growling at him, 'You heard the commander, you're THIS close to Jader!' The Orlesian had then dumped him into a stall where a surprised horse rolled her eyes as Riordan emptied what little was left in his stomach whilst clinging to her. To be transferred to Jader was a byword for being either criminally insane, even beyond the rather loose Warden standards, or such a malcontent that had you been a dog, you would have been put out of your misery long ago. He had spent most of that morning sprawled in the stall trying to sober up, at least a bit. The only good thing about being that sick was that it effectively distracted him from dwelling on his actions in the baths, something that days of boozing had failed to accomplish. No such luck today.

As Roland prodded him he absentmindedly handed over the canteen of water. What the bloody fucking Blight did he have to go and do that to Duncan for? He had been taken by surprise, true, but it had been Duncan for the love of Andraste! There was simply no excuse. Riordan rubbed his hand over his eyes. At the very least he should stop lying to himself. There HAD been a moment before Duncan had brushed it off as a game..., 'Fuck that had been close, too close'.

"This is what happens when we listen to reports from Chevaliers." Roland muttered sourly before shouting over to Duncan, "I suppose it's too much to hope for that the critters will come storming out if we approach."

"Unlikely. Spawn aren't very smart but they probably won't abandon such an advantageous spot when all they need to do is wait for us to get bored and move in. Even they have some sort of instinct," Duncan continued as he studied the map, "the ravine would make for a great ambush if we could just piss them off enough to forget about it and come out."

Vittorio's voice cut in. "It seems the Maker finally smiles on us then. Perhaps we have found the perfect use for the Bastard after all, seeing as nobody can annoy like him."

"Why don't you do us all a service and get dead!" Riordan shot back without much feeling; he just couldn't muster the energy today.

"Wait, Vittorio has a point," Roland nodded towards Riordan, "nobody can draw Spawn like you," he looked around, "If Riordan approaches the cavern he can Call them. It might be strong enough to lure them out AND make them miss the rest of us long enough for a half decent ambush."

Abelard seemed to lose his permanent sneer and eyed Riordan curiously. "Is this true? This might work and if it fails, little is lost."

Riordan spat, "Forget it, I'm not going to play sitting duck."

"You can't be serious!" Duncan butted in angrily.

"I believe_ I _am in command here Warden!" Abelard snapped before turning his attention on Riordan again. "Are you refusing an order?"

Riordan shrugged. "If that idiotic idea was an order, I guess so."

Duncan looked like he wanted to hit both of them but instead he took a deep breath and ground out, glaring at Abelard, "The plan is flawed and dangerous, Makers arse, it's not even a plan and we haven't thought it through!"

"I suggest you watch your tongue Warden." Abelard said coolly. "We're supposed to do whatever it takes, yes?"

"Right and where will that take YOU when Riordan calls them, to the back?" Duncan snarled.

The two men were so close their noses almost touched. Everybody suddenly seemed to have found bits of ground and sky that proved infinitely interesting whilst Riordan felt anger flare in his chest. This was none of Duncan's fucking business, Riordan didn't need his bloody protection, and he hated the sudden tight feeling in the throat too. His body screamed for action.

"Bloody Maker fucking Andraste sideways, I'll do it!" Everybody stared at him except Duncan who stared at the ground with his fists clenched and for a few moments all that could be heard was the soft breeze in the trees.

"Well done Warden, it seems I have misjudged you." Abelard finally said smugly.

Riordan swallowed the simmering anger and gave Abelard his most insolent smirk. "Yeah. So if this doesn't work, what do you suggest I do next? Moon them?"

As he headed for the ravine the others silently slipped away to find their places. He brushed past Roland and murmured "Thanks a lot!" He could feel the Taint slither under his skin, numbing him to the sun that warmed the side of his face. As he stopped and listened, all he could hear was Spawn whispering in his mind. Repulsive and tantalizing the Taint begged for him to come closer, to feel more. '_This might work and if it fails, little is lost.' _Well that arrogant shit Abelard had a point. Riordan obeyed the pull of the Taint and moved further up the ravine until he could see the cave opening. He closed his eyes and sent out the Call. It reverberated through his mind, cocksure and taunting as his blood suddenly sang with anticipation. The whispers in his mind halted, only to rise into a howl and moments later Spawn poured out of the cave like ants from a disturbed nest.

Duncan leaned against the tree trunk with a rag pressed against the wound in his neck, trying not to be too obvious as he watched Riordan and the new recruit Bellis. It was an ironic twist of fate that had Riordan as the almost only Warden to come out of the battle more or less unscathed after Duncan had made a complete ass off himself by almost coming to blows with Abelard over his safety. He tried to tell himself that he would have done the same had it been one of the other's life on the line, but deep inside he knew he would never have gone so far had it not been Riordan. He was also painfully aware of that he was avoiding his friend, but every time the man came near he wanted to just vanish. As if that wasn't enough he felt guilty.

'_He's struggling with his horse's harness when he hears Roland's voice rise in argument. "Now, do I look like I give a toss? Oh fuck!" There's the sound of someone being violently ill. "Are you done? You heard the man! You're THIS close to Jader." Duncan can't hear the reply but he recognises the other, more subdued voice as Riordan's. "Get your act together and get on that bloody horse and you'll do my armour too, all of this mission! I missed breakfast because of you." A moment later Riordan is half falling into the stall next to Duncan's, saving himself by grabbing hold of the mane of his horse. He clings to it as he gets sick again. Guilt swamps Duncan, it has been quite some time since he saw the other man in that condition, yet he withdraws silently like a coward.' _

With their healer down it would have to be Riordan or Bellis patching him up since Riordan already was known as a handy man with bandages, needle and thread and Bellis was the only other warden not injured. Duncan silently prayed that it would be the woman. She was pretty with curves in all the right places and could double as a nice distraction from his stupidity days ago.

Each time he thought about that evening, the memory of his thumb travelling over Riordan's mouth insinuated itself into his mind. Blight! In the painful clarity of sobriety he couldn't believe how incredibly moronic he had been. Riordan had never shown interest in men any more than Duncan had. With a sigh of relief he saw Bellis head towards him. Then, as if to really rub in the fact that the Maker had turned his back on them all, Riordan stopped her and after a brief exchange the man headed towards Duncan with a grimly determined look on his face. Duncan groaned inwardly and closed his eyes. He didn't open them even when he heard Riordan crouch next to him. "Let me have a look." Riordan's voice was gruff.

"It's fine, just a few stitches, Bellis can sort it."

"Stop playing the hero and let me see!" Riordan snapped and pulled Duncan's hand aside. Riordan was strong, they both were, like any men that daily fought for their lives and nobody could look at him and take him for anything else, but even that was deceptive for his strength exceeded what was seen, as Duncan had learned the hard way during their many sparring sessions. Now his arm was caught in an iron grip and Riordan's eyes held his just as firmly before the man turned his attention to the wound. "Makers arse Duncan!" he said exasperated, "What have I said about watching your left?" There was something like affection in his voice and it made Duncan feel sick. Riordan prodded the wound and the pain was welcome. "Lean you head that way!" he ordered. Duncan tried to make his mind blank as Riordan tugged at the straps of his armour. A generous amount of liquid was poured on his neck; it stung enough to make him hiss.

"You're a bloody sadist, you know that." He grumbled.

"It's for your own good." Some more liquid hit the wound. "About the other day...I was drunk and stupid, we both were, I'm truly sorry! It was, as you said, just a bit of fun, right?"

"I guess so..."

There was some rummaging behind him before he felt the first prick of a needle. He steeled himself and after a while chanced a joke "Could you make that a bit more painful?"

"Move again and you'll know for sure!" The voice was relaxed. "We're good then?"

He felt Riordan's breath on his neck as he worked.

"Of course!" He knew what Riordan offered him, a lie, they both knew it, but a lie that would enable them to move on and keep their friendship.

"I would not lose your friendship over something like that, it's ...too important."

Duncan was astounded. "Now that must have been like pulling a tooth."

"Much worse and if I were you right now, I would hold my tongue."

Duncan left Bellis with a smile and some sweet words after she had re-bandaged his wound. He'd managed to open it during their lovemaking. A frustrated Riordan had palmed her off on Duncan when she finally broke down, unable to deal with a death amongst her friends. What had started out as an offer of comfort had quickly turned into something else, a brush with death sometimes had that effect, Duncan had noticed. It had been frantic and sweet, yet oddly dissatisfying. Perhaps he was still off balance from his suddenly appearing attraction to Riordan. He had no idea of what to do about that, except ignore it and hope it would go away as surely it must.

As if to demonstrate his good will, Riordan had spread his bedroll next to Duncan's earlier and in that enviable way of his, snatched a moment's rest before heading back to check on the wounded. As Duncan approached the spot now, he could see Riordan was back, making what seemed a rather half-hearted attempt to clean blood off his armour. At Duncan's approach he looked up, his face full of shadows. "Guess you made another wench happy, I thought you might." His tone was odd.

Duncan settled next to him and tried to catch a glimpse of his eyes but failed. "It was you who shoved her in my face. If you wanted her for yourself why didn't you just say so?"

Riordan huffed. "I had enough on my plate. Disgusted he threw the rag and the armour aside. "Why are we discussing this?" Duncan watched in silence as the other man lay down, that his back was turned might have been coincidence; if you didn't know him.

As Duncan stretched out next to him he said, "I'm not sure, you tell me." Perhaps it was time to take a leaf out of Roland's book. "You know you're much more important to me than she'll ever be." To his relief the other man said nothing.

Riordan remained silent so long Duncan was sure the man had gone to sleep when he suddenly turned and reached out to gently touch the bandage on Duncan's neck. "Would probably not have been able to hoist the flag anyway," he murmured, "All the time she hung on to me, all I could think of was if that cut of yours had been a tad deeper or a finger's breadth to the right..." Abruptly he turned over again. "I'm beat, if you speak you're dead!"

There was no risk of that. Duncan stared at Riordan's back as he rolled a number of responses around in his mind but nothing he could think of could possibly describe what he felt. "Goodnight." he managed eventually.


	26. The Rookie

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Thank you all who have read and a special warm hug to those who have taken the time to review as well! (bows)!

**Disclaimer:** The usual

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><p><strong>The Rookie<strong>

With his head spinning from the blow, Guilbert could only stare as the monster raised its jagged sword to deliver death. As if in a nightmare his arms and legs were frozen while his brain kept screaming instructions._ Maker, Maker, Andraste ,he was going to die_! Hot blood spattered his face and he blinked slowly at the point of a sword protruding from below the monsters chin. A box on the ear jolted him from his stupor.

"Stay alert if you want to wake up young and stupid tomorrow too!" a voice barked. Guilbert ducked his head in shame, his lapse had not escaped the attention of the older Wardens, it would almost be better if he was dead. A huge warrior carrying a war axe, handed him back his sword and clapped him on the shoulder while the dark Warden who had cuffed him snorted before stabbing one of the monsters still twitching on the ground.

"Don't take it too heart, if blows to the head made you smart, Riordan would be the wisest of us all!" the large man he had heard the others call 'Runt' quipped; to Guilbert's surprise and relief the other man just laughed.

"Right, but who's to say it won't work on this one."

"Thank you," he said, wincing at the feeble ring to his voice, "my name is Guilbert." It came out in a rush.

"Roland." said the giant.

"Expect to remind me more than once if you live out the day. I'm worse with names than even old Eric was." the one called Riordan muttered. Guilbert was still trying to think of a reply when both men's heads simultaneously snapped around; Guilbert felt a wave of nausea roll over him.

"Incoming." Roland said calmly.

"How many?" Riordan crouched down and cut a rag off one of the fallen Darkspawn.

The big man shrugged "Many!"

"Blight," Riordan muttered, "where's fucking Duncan when you need him?"

"Last I saw he was going after the rest of the newbies." Roland rumbled." Thanks to Awful Abelard's brilliant plan we'll be lucky if there's any left alive after this." Guilbert cringed at the disrespectful mentioning of their leader. The man was a tit but Guilbert had grown up being taught the importance of the chain of command and to respect his betters. These Wardens however, didn't appear to have as much a chain of command as a tangled rope.

Riordan scanned their surroundings with a scowl. "Right, we'll make do with the rocks at our backs, you Gregor, keep behind the big guy."

"It's Guilbert Ser."

"Did you hear me? Get behind us!" Riordan's pale eyes bored into him.

"I did, but... Ser you're injured."

"Hah, Riordan is always bleeding from one place or another. If it was more regular you'd have thought he was a woman!" Roland grinned as he helped Riordan to shove the rag into a slash in his armour, from which blood was seeping. The other warden gave a grunt of approval when the flow was stemmed. "Now get behind if you want to live out the day."

Guilbert's stomach roiled as the Spawn approached, he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and clutched at his sword, his hand trembling as he peered past the bulk that was Roland. Any other time, shame would have gotten the better of him but the Darkspawn had unmanned him, he felt only fear and that disgusting pull of the Taint. It didn't help that all those he knew were elsewhere, leaving him with these two scarred warriors who seemed to know no fear at all. Roland held his ground, roaring in defiance and challenge, pirouetting on surprisingly nimble feet with his axe leading. Guilbert did his best to cover him with his shield and sword whilst not getting in the way of the massive blows that mowed through the enemy. The air was thick, almost unbreathable with the stench of blood and Taint. Bits of Darkspawn splattered over him like hailstones.

He staggered back to catch his breath and wiped his face looking around. Riordan skirted the jostling Darkspawn, dodging and weaving, slipping under guards with his slim sword and dagger. It was hard to spot him, he seemed to flicker in and out of the shadows, striking fast and withdrawing before the enemy even realised it was dying. Guilbert dodged a swing from Roland and when he next looked, Riordan was down on one knee with a Hurlock towering over him. The creature swung its mace. With near inhuman speed Riordan twisted out of the way, swung his arm back and up and slammed his dagger backhanded into the Spawn. He followed the movement around as he twisted onto his feet. A dark figure slipped out next to the Warden but the panicked warning Guilbert had ready, died on his tongue as the man lunged past Riordan and skewered an attacking Genlock. He was swarthy like a Rivaini and tall with an air of command. Guilbert recognised him as the man he had initially thought to be the leader on this mission. Now, covered in gore and his teeth bared in a feral snarl, he looked like a demon come to haunt the battlefield.

Guilbert's attention was drawn back to the creatures trying to flank Roland. Desperately he shoved them back with his shield as Roland's axe nearly took his head off. "Get behind!" the man bellowed and Guilbert scuttled out of the way once more. Relieved he could see other Wardens joining the fray. He caught sight of Riordan again, fighting almost back to back with the dark Warden. It had an odd chilling beauty to it, as they danced around each other, their weapons almost interweaving in attack and defence. Together they cut through the Darkspawn like a small, destructive tornado. He lost track of them and forgot about Roland when he saw Benjamin, an elven Mage that had taken the Joining with him. Benjamin seemed so engrossed in his spells he didn't realise he was too close to the fray. Frantically Guilbert cut and shoved at the Darkspawn to get to him, but could only stare in horror as the Mage was cut down and his final spell spluttered out and died with him. As he stared wildly around, Guilbert could see no others from his own group, he was the last. Grief and guilt drove him now and yelling at the top of his lungs he turned on the remaining Darkspawn.

The rest of the battle passed in a blur and when there was nothing more to kill he just stood there breathing hard, almost sobbing. He was still reeling with chock when a voice spoke at his side.

"Well done lad! It's just a matter of getting rid of the fear of these creatures and you'll do fine, we've all been there." Roland patted him on the back, a look of sympathy on his dirty face. Guilbert found himself herded surprisingly gently to the side. Riordan, barely recognisable under the gore, joined them.

"It's as Runt says, it's just like killing people, only the smell is worse." He flopped down on the ground with his back against a rock.

Guilbert bit back the obvious question. "Thank you." he croaked.

Roland grunted, sitting down alongside his colleague. Riordan smiled and yawned. "Well, I'm out, don't wake me unless an Ogre charges." With that he settled and seemed to fall asleep. Guilbert was impressed, energy was still pumping through his body and he could hardly keep still. Was it possible that he would ever be as calm after such an encounter? Roland was relaxing as well, drinking greedily from a canteen.

"Here, drink something!" he ordered handing it over. Guilbert hurried to obey. The demonic Warden was making his way towards them while cleaning his blades on his thigh. He was almost covered in black blood; Guilbert caught himself staring in horrified fascination.

"You OK?" the demon asked squatting and reaching for the canteen, quickly Guilbert handed it over.

"Just fine," Roland indicated Riordan with his head, "You know what our lazy friend is like."

"Hm, yes and you Guilbert?"

"What me? Never better!" The demon cracked a smile full of white teeth and put a bloody hand on his shoulder.

"You'll make a good Warden."

"I hope so Ser, thank you!" Guilbert stammered. The demon stood up.

"I'll check on the others, see you later."

"Sure Duncan, enjoy!" Roland answered.

Guilbert waited until he was sure the Warden was out of hearing until whispering. "Was that the Duncan, The one that, eh, was a friend of Warden Commander Genevieve?"

"I wouldn't say that to his face, but that's the rumour, right Riordan?" With that the giant jabbed an elbow in the sleeping man's ribs."

"Ouch! What now?"

"Did Duncan bonk Genevieve or not?"

Riordan straightened. "What kind of stupid question is that? Of course he didn't, like she would open her thighs to the likes of us!"

"There you have it lad."

Riordan rubbed his eyes. "For fuck's sake Roland, did you wake me for that?"

"Nope, Awful is approaching." Without a word Riordan pulled forth the now blood drenched cloth from his armour and tore it in two He handed one to Roland with a grin. The warden balled it up and held it to his neck. Noticing Guilbert's blank face he winked. "All hale men get to start burning spawn bits and dig latrines."

"You didn't think this lazy sod liked to stick close to me in a fight because of my good looks did you?" Riordan grinned wolfishly, "and no, you're not getting any, it's a dirty job but someone has to do it."

-ooo-

Swallowing another mouthful of bile Guilbert gingerly bent over the Genlock corpse. He felt numb with sorrow, exhaustion and the stench of Darkspawn. All around him, those Wardens not injured dragged bodies to a huge pyre kept alight by the mages. Smoke was settling like mist around them all and carried with it the smell of burning flesh. He truly was the only survivor of the small group of just Joined Wardens. They had ridden out only a couple of days ago, full of bravery and excitement. How naive they had been! He tried to argue that these things happened but couldn't ignore the small, defiant voice in his head that kept telling him all this was Abelard's fault. Guilbert had spotted the flaw in the plan the moment it was voiced but what could he have done, a new Warden, questioning the orders of his leader?

Angrily he tugged at the arm of the corpse and nearly fell backwards as the body came loose, leaving the twisted legs behind. With a damp slithery sound the innards slipped out of the Genlock's chest. Guilbert gasped and froze. "I see you've found one of Roland's!" said a cheery voice behind him. "Somebody should get that son of a bitch to tidy up his own mess once in a while." With his stomach heaving Guilbert spun around and staggered away. He fell sobbing to his knees as he threw up the morning meal and remained there, not caring who saw.

"Here." A deep voice spoke softly and a hand waved a canteen in front of his face. With shaking hands he took it and drank. Duncan was crouching next to him, a look of concern behind the grime of his face. Guilbert handed the canteen back but to his surprise Duncan replaced it with a hipflask. "Have some of that too, it helps." Guilbert took a cautious sip, whatever it was it felt like it would melt his eyeballs and he coughed, trying to hand the hipflask back. "Another mouthful, you've earned it." Duncan gave him a wry smile. "Just don't tell Riordan, I swiped it off him." Guilbert couldn't stop himself from anxiously looking around; Riordan struck him as a man it would be unwise to cross. Duncan laughed softly. "Don't worry, he won't know." He stood and pulled Guilbert to his feet.

"I'm...I'm sorry Ser, I'm not like this usually...I..."

"Call me Duncan. You did well, it will get easier, believe me." With a squeeze of the shoulder and a final smile, Duncan left."

-ooo-

Guilbert sagged drowsily against a tree stump. He was full of travelling rations that for once had tasted delicious and some sort of moonshine that was being passed around amongst the Wardens. Abelard had retired to his tent and nobody missed him. They were all marginally cleaner but he doubted he'd ever rid himself of the Taint stench, or the smell of charred flesh. As much as there was plenty of laughter around the campfire, there were also plenty of shadows in the eyes of the surviving Wardens; Guilbert wondered if they ever went away. He looked towards Duncan who was telling some outrageous story about a visit to Val Royeaux. The man was grinning broadly and gesticulated wildly, a far cry from the dignified leader that had given Guilbert courage, or the warrior that had fought like a man possessed. As the story unfolded the Wardens were laughing and jeering but Riordan, who sat next to Duncan, began to scowl dangerously and Guilbert marvelled at Duncan's daring.

"Right I think that's enough." Riordan grumbled.

"No, no wait it gets even better." Duncan made a dramatic pause to drink. "You see, Riordan then tries to take a swipe at the parrot but only manages to fall off the coach and while he is half out on the floor the bloody bird hops down, calm as you please, and takes a good bite out of his ear."

Laughter echoed around the fire and dispersed with the smoke amongst the trees.

"Have you had your fun?" The other man groused. "I still have a scar there you know."

A blonde Warden with an Antivan accent sniggered. "Seems you have a lot of bad luck with your beasts, your horses always showed much sensibility, perhaps they have more sense than some."

"You're just jealous I won't ride you." Riordan shot back with an evil grin.

"Va' a fare in culo!" The Antivan replied calmly.

Roland gave him a nudge, "Now now Vittorio, leave Pony here alone," he nodded towards Riordan who was out staring the Antivan and winning."

Riordan tore his eyes away from Vittorio and scowled at Roland instead. "Who are you calling Pony?"

-ooo-

Sighing with relief Guilbert emptied his bladder, leaning rather unsteadily against a tree. He was lacing himself up when he heard the rustling of somebody moving towards him, no doubt another Warden who'd discovered one of the unfortunately side effects of the moonshine. A voice spoke and he froze, recognizing it as Riordan's.

"I swear, one day I'll shove Vittorio's sword so far up his arse he can pick his teeth with it."

There was a snort of laughter and a voice, unmistakably Duncan's, said, "Careful, he might enjoy it. By the way, here's your hipflask." Guilbert peered through the darkness past the trees; he could see the men now, faintly outlined by the fire some distance away. Duncan held something out and Riordan snatched it from his hand. He stared at the flask for a long moment and Guilbert nervously held his breath, he really didn't want to get caught in a quarrel between these two. "You pick pocketed me! I don't believe it, you swarthy son of a bitch! And on top of that I will never get rid of that Pony nickname now!" Riordan finally growled, stepping closer to Duncan, who raised his hands.

"Easy there, you don't want to go and reopen that wound of yours."

"My wound is fine!"

"Perhaps this time, but Maker Riordan..." Now Duncan sounded exasperated and there was a tense pause with the two men looking at each other before Duncan suddenly ran a hand over the tear in the other man's armour, shaking his head. To Guilbert's surprise Riordan's belligerence just vanished.

"It's all right, honestly." He said softly. "You worry too much." Guilbert's jaw dropped as Riordan pressed a gentle kiss on the other man's forehead.

"Only because you worry too little."

Thoughts swirling through his head Guilbert withdrew, suddenly feeling like an intruder. The Wardens were a stranger lot than he could ever have imagined and things certainly weren't all as they seemed.

-ooo-

Va' a fare in culo – fuck off/up yours


	27. The past

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Jaden, Fenzev and KS45, this one is for you! ;)

**Disclaimer:** N,o I don't own Bioware, though I certainly wish I did...

* * *

><p><strong>The Past<strong>

"Hey Duncan, grab some!" Roland called as Duncan entered the mess. He took some stew from the huge pot on the bench and sat down with his friends. "Where's Riordan?" Roland asked as he stuffed a large piece of bread into his mouth.

Duncan shrugged. "Haven't seen him since yesterday, probably sleeping it off somewhere, why?"

"Some men came looking for him yesterday, old acquaintances they said."

Vittorio huffed, "A lie, they were noblemen, well nothing like Antivan nobles naturally, but such people would never associate with the likes of him." He smiled happily and managed to wrestle some bread off Roland. "He's done something very, very stupid this time." Duncan had his own opinion about that but since Riordan kept his mouth shut about it, so would he.

"Whatever, somebody should tell him." Roland nodded pointedly at Duncan.

"Am I his servant? Better you do it and give him their description if it seems to be more serious than usual."

"Oh, someone slept on a burr! Your blank stupid face tells me you do not know! I've been assigned to the Emperor consort's honour guard for one month, this is the last time I see your ugly mugs for a while. I'm off to the Val lazing it and looking up skirts, "Roland winked," at the very least."

"Congratulations then." Duncan said sourly.

"Don't be like that! They wanted big fierce looking men they said, not skinny runts like you. Joy here is still pissed off he wasn't chosen." Roland nudged the Antivan.

Vittorio bristled. "Two weeks I've been asking for transfer, two weeks! Ever since my cousin was assassinated. Soon it will be me; I'm getting too close to the throne."

"Yeah right, only like hundred eighty three to go! And you might want to lay off it for a bit, didn't you hear the Commander? One more time and you might get your wish! I tell you, she sounded pissed off enough to send you to Ferelden!"

"Bah, I'm a prince of the blood. I spit on Ferelden scum!

Roland rose. "Guess it's time for you losers to get sparring, I have a new armour to try out, but I promise, when I come back I'll tell you all about it, even the colour of their pubic hair this year, just so you'll have something to think about when you jerk off."

"Go get stabbed or something!" Josian muttered.

-ooo-

In the corner of the Red Gryphon Riordan drank with the single-mindedness of one determined to get near terminally drunk, ignoring any inviting looks from the women who tried to catch his eye. He was an island of gloom around which the waves of noise from the drunken patrons flowed.

Not even Duncan was able to distract him from whatever dark thoughts he was currently entertaining. Eventually he gave up and rose to follow the woman who had been flirting with him all evening. He glanced at Riordan who just waved him off. "Get back later, will you. There's something I need to tell you." Duncan caught an unusual tone of seriousness in his friend's voice and hesitated. Irritated Riordan gestured again. "Go fuck your whore and get out of my face. I'll see you later."

When Duncan returned Riordan was amazingly still upright and in a strange mood. He drew Duncan close and looked like he was about to say something but instead he planted a kiss on his temple. Enough alcohol fumes to floor a Bronto assaulted Duncan but he nevertheless settled happily next to his friend. These sudden bursts of affection were worth every harsh word and violent mood swing.

Riordan grimaced "Ugh, you stink of cheap woman. Here!" and pushed a half full bottle of finest rotgut towards the other man.

"Well that must be you then!" Duncan retorted before taking a swig, earning himself an appreciative laugh.

He sat back against the wall as the fiery liquid burned its way into his stomach and for a while he felt content to just be sitting there, half leaning against Riordan. He turned the bottle where it sat on the table and watched the movement of the yellowish liquid inside. "I thought I saw Vittorio out by the latrines talking to some guys. It was weird, I mean I know he's in The Dales routing Darkspawn but I still had to look twice. The Maker has a nasty sense of humour creating someone that looks so much like that arrogant piece of... hey!" Duncan nearly toppled sideways as Riordan suddenly shot up and the man was halfway across the taproom by the time he had caught his balance. He cursed soundly and hurried after, shoving annoyed patrons out of the way.

A brazier created a sooty orange light in the back yard, filling it with impregnable shadows. The stench of the latrines was eye watering. The place was empty so Duncan headed for the back gate that led into the narrow lane next to the tavern. He could hear voices and a tiny thread of concern coiled in his stomach. As he stepped through the gate he nearly ran into the back of Riordan but barely had time to feel relieved as pain exploded at the back of his skull and all went dark.

-ooo-

Holding back a groan Duncan rolled over on his side and cradled his head in his hands. His first thought was that this was the worst hangover ever. Even the slightest movement hurt and threatened to hurtle him back into darkness or make him empty his stomach, possibly both. Then memory came flooding back and he realised someone might be watching. He pretended to pass out again and rested his cheek against the cool floor. The tug in the taint told him Riordan was nearby and alive. Having fought off nausea for a while without detecting any sound or movement he chanced glance from beneath his eyelashes.

They were alone in a small room without windows. The floor felt hard and damp, earthen, and the whole place smelled of potatoes and mould. The only light came through the narrow cracks around a heavy looking door and a small opening in its upper part. Somewhere outside there was a fire or torches, which he took to mean that they were not going to be left for long. He hadn't been bound in any way which dismayed him since whilst it spoke of arrogance it could also mean perfectly justifiable confidence from their captors. Their weapons had been removed but flexing his calf he could feel the thin dagger he always kept in his boot, the one Riordan called 'The Rat's Tooth', and if the dagger remained he was sure his lock picks were still in his other boot. Moving his head slightly, he spotted his friend laying no more than an arm's length away. Duncan reached out with the Taint but got nothing.

He moved over to take a look at the other man's injuries. Up close it looked even worse. He could see a nasty swelling on the jaw, already miscoloured and scrapes across one cheek and the nose. The wrist was definitely broken. There was no telling what kind of damage was hidden by the leather jerkin. The attackers seemed to have targeted him specially, as to why, Duncan had no idea. Swallowing down fruitless anger, he shook him gently to try and rouse him but got nothing, Riordan's chest nevertheless rose and fell, deep and regular. Once again the man's thick skull seemed to have saved him.

Duncan moved over to the door and looked out. He could see rough stonewalls, a low vaulted ceiling and a dark brick floor, two torches burned in sconces on the wall, their smoke creating a haze in the dull light. Aside from a couple of chairs and some disused crates the place was empty. A narrow opening in the wall led to steep winding stairs that disappeared up into darkness. There wasn't much he could do at this point so he moved around the room to loosen his muscles, readying himself for whatever was to come.

When he heard footsteps he quickly laid down pretending to be unconscious. There were at least two of them, one was clearly drunk, his words slurred and hesitant. His voice was anxious when he spoke. "I say we kill him quickly. I'm not so sure about this Warden thing, there are rumours that there's some kind of wizardry involved."

"You listen to too much crap. We stick to the plan!" the other man snapped and then added in a conciliatory tone "Relax, they went down like any other man would have." The drunken one was not mollified.

"I asked around and everyone agree that Wardens are a bad lot, better left alone."

"The imbeciles at the tavern don't even know which month it is, so spare me their wisdom." the first man scoffed.

"This is still dangerous; they may have friends, Warden friends, like that guy we talked to at the gate."

The other man snorted. "When and if they come, we'll be long gone." Duncan saw the shadow of a head darken the hole in the door. "How hard did you hit them?"

"Not that hard!" the drunk protested. "Only William got a bit carried away on the Bastard. Are they dead?" he added hopefully.

"No, and you can thank the Maker for that. Geralt would have had our hides." The voices retreated.

"Geralt is getting too full of himself." The drunk muttered.

"Say that to his face some day and you might earn some respect from me." There was a snigger. "You'll be dead but respected." was the last thing Duncan heard as the voices faded into the distance.

Duncan had another go at raising Riordan. After what seemed like an eternity he felt a spark of consciousness return and moments later he found himself looking down into slightly unfocused grey eyes. His relief was short-lived as heavy footsteps once again approached. Riordan's eyes darted sideways before settling on Duncan again and before he had a chance to say anything the man covered his mouth with his hand and mouthed 'Later.'

With a grunt of effort Riordan got up and caught himself against the wall. Evidently he saw no need for subterfuge. Duncan stood up and grabbed him to steady him and once again tried to ask what was going on. Riordan just scowled and shook his head which resulted in a groan of pain. A head appeared in the opening of the door. It was immediately withdrawn and the voice of the man that looked in earlier snapped,

"Be on your guard, they're awake!" There was a sound of shuffling and steel against steel as the door opened. The light that flooded the little room seemed blinding. The doorway was empty and after a moment a new voice with an arrogant drawl to it spoke.

"Riordan, I want you to come out nice and slow with your hands behind your head. Your friend stays. You've got three crossbows aimed at you and we're five armed men so do me a favour and don't do anything stupid." Riordan gave Duncan's arm a brief squeeze before stepping away. The Taint-link hit Duncan with a force that nearly made him reel. "Wait!" Startled he managed to collect himself enough to ask "What?" but all he got in reply was a faint "You'll know." The brief sending made his already aching head feel like it would split open any moment, so he waited, gritting his teeth as his friend disappeared out into unknown danger. The last thing he saw as the door closed was a fist slamming into the side of Riordan's head.

Although his heart was practically choking him he resisted the urge to throw himself at the door. Instead he peered through the small opening, keeping his face carefully blank. He saw five men and indeed three of them held crossbows although they all carried swords as well, except for the one who must have hit Riordan and now shoved him down onto a chair, he carried an axe. As the man turned Duncan recognised him as the one he'd mistaken for Vittorio, the resemblance was startling aside from that now he could also see that where the man's right ear should have been, there was only a hole surrounded by knotted pink scar tissue, only partially covered by hair.

"So, little brother, you cannot even begin to imagine how delighted I am to see you again." The man who spoke was broad and slightly squat, his flaxen hair cut unusually short. He was the owner of the arrogant voice and apparently the leader. Grinning broadly he continued. "When Edward told us he thought he'd seen you in Denerim with the Wardens I thought he was mistaken. Clever move that, hiding amongst the Grey. Took some time to track you down. But let's not dwell on that, we're all together now, one big happy family."

Ducking down Duncan slipped a hand into his boot and managed to slide out his lock picks. Without looking down he very carefully began to work the lock trying desperately not to rush things. For all he and Riordan had been left alive for now, he didn't doubt their death was on the agenda. "I take it you all know each other?" he enquired in his most casual voice.

Riordan turned to look at him. His face partially obscured by fresh blood mingling with the old, he nevertheless answered in polite introduction. "Yes this sorry lot are my brothers," There was no hesitation as one-ear backhanded him across the face, something he must have been prepared for, Duncan realised. His head only jerked back a little before he spat a mouthful of blood and continued in the same unconcerned tone as before, "and this is how we customarily greet each other."


	28. The present

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Thanks to you all who read and crushing hugs to those who review as well! :D

**Disclaimer:** Yes

* * *

><p><strong>The Present<strong>

Looking more closely Duncan could see the family resemblance now, in the shape of the nose and chin of two of the men, otherwise there weren't many similarities and the dark colouring was Riordan's own. All the men in the room were different shades of fair. They were also well muscled, well-armed and confident. Knowing Riordan as he did, it was hardly surprising.

"Well I'm pleased to meet your family then." Duncan replied in the same easy manner, while giving the men a polite nod and seizing them up.

Aside from One-ear and the leader, there was a tall man with calm eyes. He was slimmer than the rest and looked more resigned than belligerent. Next to him stood the drunk; his pale eyes had a glassy look and his face was ruddy in the manner of someone to whom sobriety wasn't an option. Another younger looking man was standing apart as if trying to distance himself. He was very fair, almost white haired, the hair held back by a couple of braids.

The leader, whom Duncan decided must be Geralt, pointed a finger in his direction whilst he kept smirking at Riordan. "You, shut up! We have nothing against you, but you will probably have to die for your bad taste in friends. Sooner, if you open your mouth again. William, tie up the Bastard, we don't want him to get ideas." Geralt nodded towards Riordan as One-ear tossed his crossbow aside and snatched up a coil of rope. Duncan kept his face carefully neutral whilst he continued working the lock. His sweaty fingers kept slipping on the thin metal and he cursed under his breath, Blight, he was rusty!

"Kill my colleague? You sorry lot, you couldn't even kill me! How are you possibly going to take down another Grey Warden?" Riordan drawled, his speech slightly slurred now.

"What shall we do? The Bastard is right, we shouldn't have sent the men away so soon." The young one said nervously. Apparently the drunk wasn't the only one to have second thoughts.

"You should listen to Aiden," Riordan continued, "The family's idiot trait seems to have skipped him somehow!"

"You're talking bullshit." Geralt said evenly, scratching his chin. "You were always the sly one weren't you? Kin slayer!"

Riordan smiled wolfishly. "It's actually quite funny that you would say that after calling me a bastard all these years, but then, as I said, wit doesn't run in the family."

Geralt grabbed Riordan's chin almost gently "Brother, don't be like that, after all the good times we've had."

"I remember." Hearing Riordan's soft words, Duncan tensed; his senses were screaming at him that this was going to get a lot worse very soon.

"You were always an ungrateful little bastard, weren't you?" Geralt continued silkily, "Did we not turn you into the best swimmer in the family?"

"You did."

"It didn't always come easily to you I admit. Maker, a few times I thought you'd drowned, but you were always the fighter weren't you?"

"I thought it was more fun to try to teach him how to fly!" William sniggered.

Riordan nodded sagely. "Yeah, that was fun and I never thanked you for any of it, did I?"

William bent closer to Riordan. "Perhaps you would like to do that now?"

"Sure." Duncan knew what was coming even before Riordan's forehead crashed into the other man's nose. William yelled and stumbled back with his hands pressed to his face.

Riordan straightened with a smile. "You taught me how to swim and in return I've taught you how to sing." He frowned. "You might need a few more lessons though, that was really awful."

The other man had drawn his sword and was advancing, his face a twisted mask of hatred, when Geralt slammed a hand against his chest and stopped him.

"Yes take that as a lesson William, you get carried away far too easily." Geralt turned back to Riordan. "You on the other hand do not; it's almost a pity I'll have to kill you." He was interrupted by the drunk.

"We want no trouble with the Wardens." His bloodshot eyes darted towards Duncan. They are bloody Darkspawn slayers and the king's new pets too."

"Edmund is right!" Aiden agreed eagerly. "We can't kill Wardens, it's too risky!"

Geralt rolled his eyes. "Bah, be quiet and listen to your elders Aiden, you should never have been taught to read! And for the last time, shut your trap Edmund, you're freaking out the baby!" He smirked at Riordan. "I'm sure they bleed like everybody else. William, show the ladies please."

William stepped forward and stabbed the point of his dagger into Riordan's thigh. Once again the man must have expected something like that since he only grunted. Leaning closer William slowly drew the blade along the thigh stopping just by the knee, where he made a final jab. Duncan could see the tendons stand out like ropes on Riordan's neck. Sweat was trickling down Duncan's back and he had to force himself to breathe calmly_. 'His pain not yours! Don't let it distract you, HIS pain. Blight!' _Duncan bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. _'THIS is your pain, the other one is NOT'_. Smiling William pushed his fingers into the wound.

"Here, see!" He turned around and painted Aiden's cheek with it. The young man stepped back wide-eyed, wiping at his face.

"Maker!" He choked out as William turned back to dig into the wound once more, eliciting a gasp from Riordan.

"Enough!" Geralt barked. "I'll not have him bleed to death before I'm done." He drew up a chair and straddled it in front of Riordan. "So little brother, now that the welcome ceremony is over, what shall we discuss next? Family matters? You haven't asked about the whore and her other bastard."

"If you don't mind Geralt I'd rather discuss the weather." Riordan's voice was hoarse but surprisingly even.

The man laughed. "I've missed you, but it's Ser Geralt now."

"So there's a new Lord Cock of the Dung Heap, should I offer congratulations or should I give my condolences to the poor bastards that have to brown nose your hairy arse now? Then again, without me it would have been Gervaise's arse, so I guess you owe me one."

"That's true, but you must have known we couldn't let you get away with it."

"No, I guess not. Putting you first in line deserves some kind of punishment."

Duncan couldn't stop himself from smiling and as he did he felt the lock finally move. Everybody's attention was on Riordan so he crouched down, pulled out his dagger and waited.

Geralt scowled but kept his temper. "We spent quite some time searching for the bitch too, and her spawn. Didn't we William?"

William smirked. "Yes quite some time, but bitches always makes mistakes, we found her eventually, her and her lover. Their screams still ring like music in my ears."

"Ear." Riordan corrected him patiently." I threw the other one to the pigs, remember?

William stepped closer, his face twisted with rage. "You'll watch me cut off your dick before I kill you."

"Why? Don't tell me your wife is still pining for it?"

The other man was nose to nose with Riordan now and raised his knife once more. Duncan tensed; the jolt of triumph he felt from his friend gave him the warning he needed. Riordan tilted the chair back, clamped his legs around William's arm and rolled, drawing him to the floor. Before the others had a chance to spring into action he'd crushed the man's throat with his elbow. Edmund was rushing forward only to get the cell door slammed in his face followed by Duncan's dagger. Blood hissed over the cellar walls as he toppled with a gurgling sound. Following the momentum, Duncan spun to face Geralt who was drawing his sword when a quarrel bounced off the wall next to him distracting him. Out of the corner of his eye Duncan saw Julian cast a panicked glance at the scene before dropping his crossbow and disappearing up the stairs.

Geralt had already started the downward swing towards Riordan as Duncan's thrown dagger embedded itself in the side of his throat. The man gasped and the stroke only glanced of Riordan's shoulder. Duncan snatched up Edmund's sword and leapt, running Geralt through. The only remaining enemy, Edward, was standing with his back against the wall, clutching his sword with trembling hands so Duncan stepped over to him, swatted the weapon aside and held him at sword point, daring him to move. Riordan lurched to his feet and stepped on William's throat, finally putting an end to the horrible gasping. William's body twitched and the axe he desperately tried to raise fell out of his hand. Duncan indicated the man against the wall, raising a questioning eyebrow; this was Riordan's brother, his call. With his free hand he cut the ropes off Riordan's wrists. As Duncan worked, his friend kept his eyes fixed on his remaining brother.

Once freed, Riordan picked up Geralt's sword, his face was almost serene. Duncan stepped away as the man advanced towards his brother who lunged and struck out at him. Riordan barely seemed to move, yet the sword missed him and he caught it with his own. With a twist and a grinding of steel against steel he disarmed the other man who whimpered and stepped back until the wall stopped him. Riordan pressed the point of the sword so hard against Edward's throat it drew blood. The man's face twisted with hatred and fear as he choked out.

"Don't you want to know how your mother died?"

"No." Riordan answered before shoving the sword so hard through the man's neck it hit the wall with a dull clang. He didn't seem to notice the blood that sprayed across his face as the point was dragged against the wall by the force of the movement. Duncan reached out to grab him by the shoulders only to feel iron warm with blood at his throat. He raised his hands.

"Riordan it's me." He said calmly and looked into the pale eyes, searching for the friend he knew was in there somewhere. He saw nothing, but after a few heavy beats of his heart the sword withdrew as Riordan turned and hurried up the stairs, seemingly oblivious of his injuries. After taking a few breaths to collect himself, Duncan followed.

He arrived on the upper floor just in time to see Riordan throw his sword on the ground and sink down on the threshold to the yard, cradling his broken wrist against his chest. His eyes were closed as he leant his head against the door frame. Except for the sound of retreating hooves, the night was silent. "Aiden was always the one with the brains. He released the other horses." Riordan muttered. A quick look in the stables told Duncan Riordan was right. He scanned the horizon, he suspected they weren't very far from the city but they wouldn't get anywhere in this darkness and Riordan's wounds needed attention badly.

Stepping back inside, he headed for the nearest open door. The furniture inside was covered in linen sheets, it smelled musty and unused. He snatched one of the dust covers of a delicately carved wooden screen to use as bandaging. When he returned to the doorway, Riordan's face was waxen, even his lips seemed to have lost all colour. Duncan kneeled next to him. "Stay with me, you hear?"

"It's OK, it's not as bad as it looks." Riordan murmured without opening his eyes. Duncan laughed, not reassured, there was a lot of blood pooling around Riordan. The wrist was in a bad way too, the strain from the ropes had not helped.

Duncan had finished the cut on the leg when the other man suddenly spoke. It sounded more like thoughts leaking uncensored from a broken mind than something meant to be heard or understood. "She's dead then... They said she ran away with the huntsman, I hope it made her happy." A faint smile curved Riordan's mouth and then faded. "They called her a whore, my Father most frequently of them all."

"Was he really your father?" Duncan asked softly. Riordan turned his head away.

"She took my sister and left me, so yes, I think he was." Riordan answered in the same flat voice. "I've searched for her in every woman with a black braid down her back and a small girl holding her hand. It's time to stop now I think." Riordan's eyes closed before he continued, letting his head roll back against the doorframe. "I almost regret killing the last one; he used to leave me alone when the others weren't around." After a pause long enough to make Duncan think no more was forthcoming, Riordan spoke again. "One thing I find ironic, I'm a kin slayer, a liar, a whoremonger, you name it! But despite all that, everyone, even you, keeps calling me the only thing I'm probably not, a bastard."

Duncan didn't know what to say. He felt as if the other man was suddenly brittle and the wrong words would shatter him. He'd caught terrible images from Riordan as the man struggled with the pain, images he could never reveal having witnessed. He opted for silence and hoped his hands bandaging the physical wounds would somehow convey what he felt. Riordan seemed lost in thoughts. When Duncan was done he carefully touched Riordan's cheek. To his relief, his friend started from wherever he had been and stared at him with pain clouded, confused eyes. "Come, let's get you inside." Duncan carried Riordan into the room and gently put him down on a couch. "How do you feel?"

"I have been dreading this day for so long and now it's come and I feel ...nothing, tired perhaps."

"You rest then, I'll keep the Werewolves at bay." A smile flickered on Riordan's lips as his eyes closed. A knot in his stomach Duncan had been unaware of, started to loosen as he heard Riordan's breaths deepen. He drew up a chair and sat down waiting for dawn as he rested his hand on the other man's head and tried to rid himself of the image of a boy with otter-sleek dark hair and dreams of murder behind his eyes.


	29. The transfer

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Jaden, Fenzev and KS45, you are precious!

**Disclaimer:** Of course

* * *

><p><strong>The Transfer<strong>

The first thought running through Duncan's mind as he woke was 'fuck!' The sun was low in the sky and flooded the dormitory with golden light. It shone right in his face which was what had woken him. The place was empty; why the Blight had nobody said anything? Stiffly he rolled out of bed; sleeping in leather armour was never comfortable. He hadn't meant to fall asleep but apparently he had been more tired than he'd thought. Blearily rubbing his face, he headed for the infirmary, with any luck Riordan wouldn't have woken yet. After hovering protectively over him and getting underfoot of the healers, Duncan had politely but firmly been ushered out with assurances that his friend would be fine, IF they were given the chance to work on him. There was no way Duncan could express that it wasn't merely the man's body he was worried about, without betraying Riordan's trust, so he'd swallowed his frustration and left.

There was no sign of Riordan in the infirmary and the harried looking healer from earlier, pointedly ignored Duncan. He felt vaguely ashamed when he remembered his behaviour at the time. The next place to look for his friend was by the sparring grounds where they usually would hang out until the bell called for the evening meal; he fervently hoped the idiot hadn't gone there to actually spar. The risk was rather slim though, Riordan thought sparing was a waste of time and did just enough not to catch the evil eye of the Master at Arms.

The place was bustling but Duncan saw no sign of Riordan. He found Josian instructing Roland in archery however. The weapon looked like a child's toy in Roland's hands but he was surprisingly good at it. They both stopped at the sight of Duncan and eyed him with such a look of pity on their faces his heart dropped into his stomach. It dropped all the way into his boots when Roland approached and draped a heavy arm around his shoulders as if to comfort.

"You must be feeling bad about Riordan. I'll miss him too, but nothing like you I think." The man said quietly. Duncan felt as if he had taken a blow to the head with a hammer; his mouth was suddenly dry and no words would come out. "I'll buy you enough booze to get you senseless tonight, deal?" Roland offered, looking closely at him. "At least Jader isn't the end of the world, only next to it, right?"

"Jader," Duncan clutched at the name, "Riordan is in Jader?"

"Eh yes, or at least on the way."

Duncan glared at both his friends but it was Josian who eventually spoke as he fidgeted with an arrow. "I'm surprised you didn't know. He's been transferred to Jader, they left this morning."

Relief warring with anger suddenly crowded Duncan. He turned to Roland "And you knew?" It sounded more accusing than he'd intended. Roland looked uneasy.

"Um, yes, sort of."

"And you didn't say!" The anger won out.

Roland said helplessly, "To be honest, it never crossed my mind that you didn't know."

"I see, so how long has this been common knowledge?"

"Oh I don't know, Roland told me a few days ago," Josian shrugged, "Riordan must have finally managed to piss off someone at the top."

Commander Mathilde of course, Duncan thought bitterly, it had to be. She put great store in rules and regulations. He pinched his nose as he tried to push down the mess of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Had every bloody warden in Montsimmard known except him and why had Riordan not said anything?

"Did Riordan tell you?" He asked.

"Shit no!" Roland huffed. "Vittorio was waiting outside the commander's office to get another chance to complain about a transfer to The Val, and the commander was shouting loud enough to be heard all the way to the White Spire. Quite impressive, those doors are solid oak you know."

Josian sounded pleased when he said, "Things will be quieter around here. But the poor sods at Jader…"

Desperately trying to recover his composure, Duncan said, "Maybe he'll reform." The smile felt stiff but it was the best he could manage.

Josian's grin got wider. "Not bloody likely, Vittorio got his transfer as well, to Jader! I don't know who to pity the most, the asshole or the bastard."

_'One thing I find ironic, I'm a kin slayer, a liar, a whoremonger, you name it! But despite all that, everyone, even you, keeps calling me the only thing I'm probably not, a bastard.' _Duncan's self-control snapped. "I never want to hear you call him a bastard again!"

"I'm sorry," Josian sounded remorseful now, "I know you liked him. I shouldn't have spoken like that."

"For your information I still like him, what's with the past tense?" Duncan ground out.

"Nothing, just..."

"Just what?"

"They say they die like flies in Jader, and not because of the Spawn. Only the scum is sent there."

"They talk too much crap!" Duncan stalked off; he had heard the same thing and a part of him wished Riordan dead, or at least in a lot of pain, for not telling him he was being transferred, for not trusting him, for...whatever! Roland called after him, he ignored it. Why had Riordan not said anything? All Duncan's concern yesterday was thrown back in his face. Confusion mingled with anger and hurt, if Riordan was here now...but he wasn't, he'd left without a word. And the commander had sent a badly wounded man on a dangerous journey. Duncan angrily swallowed the fear that rose, Riordan didn't deserve it and Duncan had a thing or two to say to the Commander. A voice in his mind pointed out it would be better to take some time to think and calm down. Another voice told it to fuck off.

Ignoring the questioning looks of the Wardens as he stomped past, he finally stopped in front of the door to the commander's office. Resisting the urge to kick it, he knocked and gritted his teeth, waiting for a reply. Commander Mathilde didn't look particularly surprised when he entered and eyed him calmly.

"Warden Duncan, I was expecting you." She nodded curtly."

"Commander, I need to speak with you."

"I will listen."

The commander's unruffled demeanour only fuelled his frustration and anger. He marched up to her desk. "I just want to know how you justify sending an injured man on an arduous journey like the one to Jader?" He bit off the last word for fear he might say things he would regret.

"We are discussing Warden Riordan then. He was hale enough to mount a horse and the rest is no business of yours." With a heavy sigh commander Mathilde stood up and moved around the desk to stand next to him. The look of sad understanding on her face grated on him, she understood nothing! "The powers that be are watching. The Order has been afforded great freedom in the past but then we were needed. Now many feel we have outlived our usefulness. Under the circumstances Riordan's conduct was detrimental to us. The man you are defending, sadly, never understood the necessity of obedience and discipline. If there is a Blight, I do not doubt he will fulfil his purpose like any other Warden, but until such a time, he is better suited for Jader."

"Better suited to die? I've travelled a lot with him and he is an excellent fighter, better than most."

"Without discipline skill is nothing, in fact, it is a most undesirable quality. Surely you can appreciate that? You should consider his removal an opportunity. You have shown great promise in the Order but your association with Riordan has held you back and speaking to you now, I am even more convinced that what I did was for the best. This is your chance to prove yourself and fulfil your potential. Do not disappoint." Her words crawled over his brain. He hated how reasonable it sounded, that a tiny part of him agreed. Self-loathing coated the back of his throat. Anger at himself for listening, at Riordan for not speaking and the commander for sounding so fucking reasonable, rose until he couldn't think and it drowned out everything. The next he knew there was a sharp jolt and pain shot up his arm. Blinking through the wrath he saw Mathilde sitting on the floor, her hand to her face as blood dripped from beneath it. Her eyes were huge with incredulity. Numbly he stared at her before he spun on his heel and marched out.

-ooo-

When he finally became aware of his surroundings he'd entered the herb garden. His hand throbbed with pain and he relished it. Heavily he sank down on the same bench where Riordan had lain so long ago. He remembered the startled look on the other man's face when Duncan elected to reach out instead of confront, and how quickly it had been discarded. Wasn't that Riordan's way, not care, just turn his back with a shrug and never a backward glance? "I hope you rot!" Duncan muttered to himself.

He lay down on the bench trying to imagine what Riordan had seen. A young man, uncertain, yet pretending not to be. He remembered how his friend had laughed at the called up image of Six-finger and the casual way he had offered himself up for ridicule. Duncan had sensed the darkness in Riordan already then, but not until now had he begun to realise how impregnable it was. He tried to imagine growing up under the circumstances Riordan had, he did not doubt he'd only seen glimpses. Unlike himself Riordan had never had to starve, but in comparison Duncan counted himself lucky. A lot of things made more sense now, not the least Riordan's strong reaction when being held under water. Duncan shut his eyes. Unbidden there was an image of himself floating in water with a calloused hand resting lightly against the back of his neck and a voice urging. 'Here, I've got you and I won't let you drown.' Blight! Blight and Blood! 'They die like flies in Jader.'

He stared right into the sun until his eyes bled with tears. How was it possible to hate and love a person with such intensity? Abruptly he sat up and took a few deep breaths before heading over to the pump to wash his face. The fact was that Riordan had betrayed him, had probably never cared that much. That had all been in Duncan's head. It hurt to admit it. Not even Duncan fully understood the relationship he'd thought he had with the man. It had given him the kind of excitement he might have felt having earned the trust of one of these intelligent Fereldan Mabari war dogs. When he reached out he'd never known if his hand would be accepted or bitten clean off. But having the animal growl and threaten only to discover the final attack never came and instead finding this strong dangerous beast work, not against him but with him, of its own free will, giving all that it had inside and more; those moments had been worth every bruise, bite and frustration and right now he missed Riordan so much it felt like he was bleeding out from some invisible wound.

"You took some time to find."

Duncan swerved to find Renna walking, no floating, there was no other way to describe it, towards him. "Why would you want to, tell the guards I'm here." He snapped, immediately wondering what could be seen on his face.

"Oh, I will, but I wanted to talk to you first."

"Why?" Duncan was intrigued despite himself; Renna didn't usually seek out anyone.

The woman reached out and put a hand on his arm, he had to stop himself from recoiling. She smiled a rather sad smile and it seemed unnatural somehow. "I want you to know that I talked the Commander down to a week in solitary."

"You're sleeping with the woman I suppose."

"No, but I let her think I might, I've found it easier to control them that way. Anyway that's totally irrelevant and no business of yours." She settled gracefully on the stone bench.

Duncan sighed and rubbed his face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I suppose I owe you now." Renna gave a laugh as cold and sharp as snow crystals.

"No Duncan, you don't owe me. Anyway, I also came to tell you I'm returning to Weisshaupt to continue my training there."

"You're leaving?"

"Don't act like you would miss me, that would be hypocrisy."

"No pleasantries, right!" He shook his head ruefully. "Soon all of us will be scattered anyway."

"Oh, grow up, please! We're not recruits any more. Be the Warden I know you're capable of being."

Duncan sat down next to the Mage, regarding her suspiciously. "So?"

"So nothing, I CAN do things just to be nice you know! I'm not inhuman."

He couldn't quite bring himself to believe her. "Not relishing going back home I take it?"

"You think I am a hard person and perhaps I am. When I was sent here I was filled with purpose, if perhaps not the same as that of those who sent me. I had this idea that I could make my own fate. Even so I was naive in the ways of the outside world; I would never have been able to manage on my own, so I needed someone to do my bidding. I saw all of us that survived, a most successful group and I was convinced that I could bend anyone to my will, but who?

"Vittorio."

"That was the most obvious choice, yes. Not only handsome but he had connections. Yet ultimately totally self-centred so he was of no use."

"You would have gotten along famously."

Renna smiled again. "Yes, I suppose you would think so. Don't think I didn't consider you, but you were too aware and frankly, too smart, not my first choice. But I had plans for how to get to you at a pinch; you like your women on the sweet side and a bit vulnerable, don't you?"

Duncan had no wish to comment on that. "And?"

"So I suddenly noticed Riordan. Like a force of nature he was, chaotic and bursting with emotions he did not know how to channel, except for destruction. I thought, if I gave him what he wanted, he would be mine forever. You realise that's all he was looking for? But after your trip to Ferelden he was lost to me." She paused and looked sharply at Duncan. He refused to look away and refused to ask the obvious question, he didn't want to know. She finally looked away. "Our party will go by Jader and as a final gesture I will pass on any message you deem fitting."

Duncan clenched his fists. The pain in the injured hand helped him to stay firm. "There is none." He said flatly.

"I see, perhaps that's for the best." Renna nodded, smoothing down her gown as she rose. "Good bye Duncan. Had things turned out different..." she shrugged. "Maybe we'll see each other again and if not, remember that I wish you well."

"And I you." Duncan watched Renna leave before he leaned back against the wall. Too many things were rushing through his mind, one thing was clear though, Josian had been right, Blight take him! What had been was not what was. From now on Duncan would make his own path and never look back, that, at least, was a lesson Riordan had taught him. He rose as the guards came to collect him.


	30. The End part 4

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Jaden, Fenzev and KS45, well, you know...:D

**Disclaimer:** Eh, yes

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><p><strong>The End 4<strong>

Duncan's words hung brittle between them. Both men stared at each other as if caught by surprise by the heat of that last exchange. Riordan recovered first but there was an edge of sarcasm when he spoke, "I apologize, I shouldn't have said that, where are my manners?"

Duncan took a deep breath and forced some levity into his voice. "You were always pretty blunt."

"Still, that was uncalled for." Riordan gave a tight laugh. "You would have thought enough water had gone under the bridge by now, wouldn't you?"

"Perhaps." Duncan carefully conceded. "It was a lifetime ago."

Something sharp and dangerous flashed in the other man's eyes before he turned back to stare into the fire. As in the past, Duncan could almost feel the tension in him like a wall of heat. "Anyhow, you didn't invite me here to discuss old times."

"No I didn't." Duncan turned his glass over in his hand, wondering desperately how he could salvage something from this wreck of a conversation. "Actually, the reason is right over there. You remember what he was like as a young lad don't you?" He nodded towards Alistair who was sleeping blissfully unaware of the battle going on right next to him.

Riordan looked around and almost eagerly went over to the coach, obviously relieved to change the subject. "Oh yes, the little bugger has become quite the man, I thought he might. We actually talked a bit before the ceremony, he seems decent enough but a bit naive don't you think?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Duncan suddenly felt guilty. He'd done what he could for the boy, which had proven to be not enough, and the feeling that he'd somehow let, not only Alistair but Fiona and Maric down too, kept gnawing at him. Perhaps in his attempt to make up for his failure to protect Alistair in the past, he might have polished the truth about the future, just a little. Maker knew the lad needed something good to happen to him, just for once. Anyway, in time he would learn what he needed.

"Like fuck you are! His view of the Wardens is totally idealized. Didn't you notice the way he looked at Stroud at the Joining, as if he was some sort of bloody hero?"

Duncan couldn't quite suppress a smile. "The man _IS_ rather impressive, especially in plate."

"Bah, we both know he's the biggest asshole this side of the Waking Sea."

"Alistair is grateful to get out of the Chantry that's all. Time will temper him. He's skilled too, say what you will about the Templars but they know their business. I had to use the Right of Conscription to pry him away from the Grand Cleric." Duncan sank sat down in front of the fire again, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Riordan raised an eyebrow in that familiar way that indicated he was surprised. "Templars, bad Duncan, antagonizing the Chantry now are we? That won't sit well with Weisshaupt."

"They filed a complaint. I found it useful for...something." Duncan didn't know until right then what a relief it would be to hear Riordan laugh. The man's eyes glittered wickedly.

"They'll probably send a copy to Jader. I will no doubt find similar use for it."

"Vittorio lets you handle the correspondence?" Duncan kept his voice carefully neutral.

"Maker's balls no! But I have some leverage with the one who does. Anything with your name on goes to me first."

"Riordan I..." There was a tiny stupid surge of hope which got quickly squashed when Riordan cut him off.

"Don't! I do it to vex Vittorio, that's all. Now, back to your new Warden. He'll be fine, as you say. He's got his wits about him and he'll have you for a mentor, not a bad start for the lad. What did you want to talk to me for?" He leaned against the mantelpiece with studied casualness.

Duncan swallowed his irritation. This was like a duel, not at all what he'd hoped for, but knowing Riordan he should have expected it. Still, there was too much at stake here to allow himself to get carried away. "Maybe I just wanted to see an old friend without an audience of every Warden in the compound; is that so hard to believe? And if you find it such a hardship, why did you come in the first place?" He regretted the question the moment it left his mouth. It was an invitation to more of Riordan's barbs.

"Oh, I don't know, stupidity, boredom, take your pick." Riordan shrugged.

Duncan wanted to grab the man and shake him. With a huge effort he forced himself to speak calmly. "Don't you think I know what you are doing? Hiding behind that_ 'I care about nothing' _shit, it doesn't work with me because I KNOW it isn't true, so just lay off it will you. Show me something that is genuine for a change, THAT would be refreshing!"

Riordan's eyes narrowed. "The time when I actually gave a fuck about what you thought of me is long gone. I admit it existed but not anymore!"

Duncan couldn't stop it from hurting but he wasn't going to give the other man the confrontation he was looking for or this conversation would be over, for good, so he just said quietly. "I used to love you, you know." Not the entire truth but that didn't matter.

Riordan blinked, thrown off balance. "That was uncomfortable, no, forget that. That was _EXTREMELY _uncomfortable."

Duncan watched him, keeping his face expressionless. Riordan's answer was more honest than he'd expected. "I hope it was. So now what? The weather again?"

"Excellent choice! The weather, a bit on the damp side wouldn't you say?"

They had come full circle and Duncan suddenly felt so tired. "How did we come to this?"

Again he felt the kindling of anger in the other man, so predictable, it was what Riordan always resorted to when faced with something he couldn't handle. Duncan steeled himself for whatever was to come. What he wasn't prepared for was more honesty.

"You tell me, you always have an answer for everything but did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to know, I don't need to understand!"

Confused Duncan held up his hands. "Maker! Fine, have it your way!"

Riordan seemed slightly embarrassed by his outburst. Inclining his head he said, "Thank you." He sighed. "Refill?"


	31. The whore

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5. Thanks to all who read and as always! Extras to Jaden, FenZev, and Shakespira (to my mind, the Queen of anything Duncan/Riordan)**  
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**Disclaimer: **See previous...**  
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><p><strong>The Whore<strong>

Branwen knew she should have taken a fancy identity like Angelique or Jasmine but losing her name as well as everything else seemed too much. Here she was nobody, not that she'd been anybody back home but there she had understood the spoken word and the unspoken rules. To think that Jader was so close to Ferelden, and looked so similar, yet felt like a different world.

She got on all right with the other girls. She wasn't beautiful; to them she was that Fereldan girl with the ugly name and ugly language. Yet, when men were drunk and horny what did it matter what the whore looked like, they were all the same between the legs.

Madame Élodie could have been worse that was true. She made sure they were all clean and didn't overdo it with whatever their poison of choice was. Branwen had a roof over her head, a pallet she shared with another girl and of course, there were the minders who made sure the punters didn't rough up the merchandise, unless they'd paid for the privilege. Branwen hated them all the same, a few were much worse than any paying customer, they seemed to think all the girls where there for their personal entertainment, Madame Élodie didn't mind, provided they didn't get in the way of business or left visible marks.

They were having a busy night with a company of imperial soldiers just arrived in the city, and Branwen was tired and sore. As she hurried back from the latrines she got caught by Madame Élodie. The woman narrowed her plucked eyebrows and glared suspiciously at her. "Oi, where have you been? I've got a customer for you in number two." Branwen knew better than to argue but as she turned and headed for the wash room in the backyard she thought wistfully of the soldiers. Aside from paying for a quick screw they would sometimes sneak the whores that entertained in the taproom a few extra coppers, money that never got near Madame Élodie's greedy hands.

Hurriedly she cleaned off the sticky mess left behind by her previous customer. In the sleeping quarters she pulled on a fresh chemise before making her way to the number two cubicle. She stopped in front of the sacking that provided an illusion of privacy and said softly "Monsieur, may I come in?"

"That's what you're paid for isn't it?" The voice was low and slightly gravelly. She stepped inside and saw a man sitting slumped on the pallet, his back to the rough-hewn wooden planks that separated the cubicles. Between his out stretched legs he cradled a bottle. Even from here she could smell the booze on his breath. She was relieved when she recognised him. Not that he was pleasant company, but the minders were afraid of him. Once two of them had barged in while he was with her and faster than she could say 'limp dick' one of them was staggering around with blood welling from a wound in his stomach and the other was backing through the sacking with a broken nose. They were wary of him after that and maybe, just maybe Branwen thought, they kept a little bit more out of her way too.

Madame Élodie allowed it. Apparently he was a Grey Warden and clearly dangerous. She wanted no trouble with them, they were all crazy she said. Besides, they wanted whores as much as the next man and weren't burdened with some bizarre vow of chastity like some of the Templars.

With a fluid motion that belied his apparently sozzled state he got to his feet, carefully put the bottle out of harm's way and began to remove his vambraces and leather jerkin. On bare feet Branwen padded over to the pallet where she settled to wait. In many ways he was an easy one to please, no fuss and no talking, especially no talking. She had discovered that he responded well when she sometimes reached back and used her nails, digging them into the hard muscle of his thigh until he almost bled. It was nothing compared to the preferences of some of her other punters and she'd never dared to ask him about it, if he would like her to do more. It would have cost extra of course.

Men came in all shapes and sizes and she barely noticed what they looked like anymore, even so she wasn't entirely immune to the pleasure of having a man that was nice to look at. But mostly she liked him because sometimes when he was deep in his cups he spoke to her in Fereldan. With a muffled curse the man tossed the tangled shirt and jerkin aside. She wondered about his scars. He was quite young except for in the eyes and yet there were so many of them, as many as on some of the veteran soldiers she'd served.

Unlacing his trousers he kneeled on the pallet and wordlessly motioned for her to turn around, silently she obeyed. Calloused fingers brushed over her before he mounted her with just a stifled gasp, gripping her hips hard. Branwen diligently made all the sounds that were expected of her and pushed back at every thrust. They were more violent this time and she was too busy keeping herself from being pushed over to do anything as fancy as using her nails. Soon his fingers twitched as he came with a curse and a groan. He slid out and tucked himself away before reaching for the bottle once more. The way he drank made her think he was trying to drown the memory of what just happened. She pulled down her shift and prepared to leave, that was the way he wanted it. She almost jumped out of her skin when he grabbed her arm. What had she done wrong?

"Why are you here, doing something you hate?" The words were just a little bit slurred and she found herself caught by piercing if somewhat bloodshot eyes. The blunt question caught her off guard and all the glib responses suddenly eluded her. The awkwardness of having to speak Orlesian made it even worse.

"No no, I love you Monsieur!" she protested quickly. "Would you like to have me again? I want you!"

With a grimace of disgust he let go of her arm and sat down heavily onto the pallet. "I suppose a stupid question deserves a stupid answer. Go!" He turned away and suddenly she felt ashamed, as if she had failed some sort of test.

A tiny flame of angry defiance made her blurt, "Why are you here, doing something you hate yourself for doing?" She trembled at her daring, but seeing the sudden wry smile transform his face, she knew her gamble had succeeded. He was speaking Fereldan again.

"A clever whore, what is this country coming to?" He passed her the bottle and gestured for her to sit; she didn't dare to refuse either gesture. The liquid burned her mouth and almost made her sneeze. She waited to see what would come next, but he seemed to have forgotten all about her. Instead he stared at the empty space in front of him as if it had offended whilst he kept drinking from the rapidly dwindling contents of the bottle. "You may leave." He suddenly said, laying down, his back towards her.

She pleaded in the language they shared, "Please let me stay tonight; if you do, I'll be left alone."

There was a long pause before he grunted, "If you must." And moved a fraction to give her space.

Branwen smiled, he was in a good mood. "Thank you." She said to his back, THIS would give the minders pause.

"No talking." She curled up as much as the space would allow. She could smell leather and the fresh tang of sweat on his skin. It felt comfortable, safe.

"If you have somewhere to go, get out of here." He mumbled before drifting off to sleep.

His words surprised her and she spent some time turning them over in her mind like prised possessions whilst she listened to him snore. Sometimes the most simple of things could seem unattainable. What did she want? She wanted a solid and kind man who would give her a baby she wouldn't have to get rid of and a nice house in a Ferelden town. She had left in a flurry of pride, perhaps it was time to swallow it and go home.


	32. The cold journey

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. The reviews we have been getting from Jaden, FenZev, KS45, and last but not least, Shakespira is like raw lyrium! (or is it Antivan Black?) Thank you one and all!

**Disclaimer:** Most of the characters belong to Bioware, but Roland is MINE!

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><p><strong>The Cold Journey<strong>

"Blight and blood!" Duncan sprang back as the Spawn corpse he grabbed came apart. "This one's bloody yours Roland, you deal with it!" Disgustedly he wiped his hands on his armour which made little difference, smeared in gore as it already was.

"Can I help that I'm strong? Try to kill something with this baby instead of your toothpicks and we'll see how that goes, yes?" Roland patted his axe before gingerly nudging the Spawn remains with his foot. "A Shriek, you don't see many of them around." There was a squelchy noise as the pieces moved. "Hm, I think I'll pass, some eager rookie will take care of it." Duncan glared at him. "Hey, you just chickened out so quit giving me the evil eye!" The Orlesian said good naturedly. Gritting his teeth Duncan bent to finish the job, meanwhile Roland, quite unconcerned, took his very good time having a drink from his canteen. "Fuck, I miss Riordan!" He groaned.

"Why? So the two of you can weasel out of this together, as always?" Josian grumbled as he and another Warden staggered past carrying a Roach. Duncan elected not to have an opinion. Roland had only been back from the Val for a few days after having had his month extended to almost a year, and he was glad to finally have a companion he genuinely liked. He had little in common with Amaury and as much as he tried he couldn't like Josian, respect him yes, but not like. There were others in the Wardens that he liked but none he felt such ease around as Roland. He could see the man frown at Josian's back.

"At least Riordan had a sense of humour." Roland muttered glancing around the muddy mess of the battlefield. "Is it me or do the Spawn seem to be more active these days?" It was an unpleasant thought but Duncan could only agree. He hated what it might signify. "Ah well, guess we're almost done, except for you and your...er ...pieces. How about you take one, I take one and some stupid bugger is bound to take the rest if we go really slow?

Duncan couldn't stop himself from grinning, hearing Roland was almost like hearing Riordan. No wonder the two had gotten on so well. He swallowed a sharp pang of longing and immediately got angry for feeling it. One would have thought he'd learned his lesson. "Agreed!" He found himself saying, taking hold of a leg. Already the sickening stench of charred Darkspawn was settling around them. Despite being boosted by magic the pyre was hissing from the light drizzle that dampened everything, and belched out thick black clouds of greasy smoke against a grey sky. Duncan grimaced in disgust; burning Spawn was a smell he would never get used to.

He made a final round to check on the others. This had been a small group of the creatures and there were only minor injuries to be dealt with but Roland wasn't the only one trying to get out of the messy duty of tidying up. He vented his bad mood on a couple of rookies who'd taken shelter from the damp under a tree and took some grim satisfaction from seeing their chocked faces as they scuttled away to scour the area for more Darkspawn remains. It did little to distract him from his thoughts though, so he joined them without a word and pushed on until dusk became night.

-ooo-

At the evening meal Duncan sat down next to Roland. Some part of him that he still hadn't quite managed to eradicate yearned for that feeling of easy camaraderie, even knowing it went against the goals he had set for himself. He had been so determined to make a difference when he came back after his journey with Genevieve. Then Riordan happened and it suddenly didn't seem so important anymore. With the man gone there was nothing else left for him and although the joy and satisfaction of feeling useful had gotten lost somewhere, at least the hard work distracted him from that empty aching void that was permanently lodged behind his ribs.

"Heard you've been flogging yourself real hard these past months." Roland's tone was casual but Duncan tensed anyway.

"And?" Funny how that short word could sound so incredibly defensive.

"Just thought you were a bit hard on the rookies, that's all."

"Nobody said being a Warden would be easy. The sooner they get used to it, the better." Duncan heard himself answering. Even to him it sounded as hollow as it felt. The look Roland gave him confirmed it.

"I just fail to see how competing to be the biggest asshole will benefit anyone, unless you want to go for the title, like Vittorio. Go on, be an idiot, pretend you don't even remember Riordan. Just don't let it out over the others."

Duncan sagged over his bowl of mystery stew, suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, that happened a lot these days. Instead he was nearly overwhelmed by the pain of loss. _Maker, he did remember Riordan! Their comfortable silences, the games of chance they played, with insane rules made up on the fly. Once Duncan's punishment for loosing had been having his pony-tail cut off, which had amused Riordan no end. On another occasion Riordan had been forced to shave only one half of his face for two weeks. He also remembered how on cold nights when they travelled together that last time, they had pooled their blankets to stay warm and the squabbles the next morning when they untangled themselves from their nest, trying to outdo each others insults._ As usual the memories were followed by a sense of betrayal which rose like bile in his throat, overshadowing everything else. It was so long since that day and still it felt like yesterday, as fresh and as bitter. The strength of his feelings never ceased to surprise him; he was getting tired of himself and sick of having them eating away at him. "I remember what I need to." He said hoarsely.

Instead of commenting, Roland plucked the chunk of bread right out of his hand, stuffed it in his mouth and said, "Was in Jader a couple of months ago."

Forcing himself to sound as casual as his friend Duncan asked, "With the Emperor's consort, why?"

"Negotiations with the Fereldan King, came to nothing as I understand. Florian is a moron and couldn't negotiate himself out of a sack, with or without that gaggle of sycophants he has. Didn't matter anyway. The real point was showing off the new fortifications around the harbour."

Relieved at the unexpected direction this was going Duncan snorted and sent a thought of sympathy to Maric. Florian was rumoured to be as mad as a bag of ferrets. "Are they any good?"

"Looked impressive enough to me. But there was that dark sour looking guy who never left the side of the King, like we were going to massacre them on the spot, who took in every inch of it and looked quite sick afterwards, so I guess it's all right."

Duncan guffawed. "Loghain MacTir, the Hero of River Dane."

"Yes, that's the one I guess. Anyway, I managed to meet Riordan. Not that sneaking away in that bloody outfit was easy."

Duncan froze, but managed to sound only vaguely interested "So?"

"Well, my intention was to beat the shit out of the ba... bugger, but ..."

"Don't..." Duncan clung to the mystery stew. _'I don't care, DON'T CARE!'_

"What?"

"Nevermind, you were saying?"

"What I was trying to say is that when I saw him, I couldn't. Looked like he'd not slept for months." Duncan really didn't want to hear this. "Drunk too, which was pretty early in the day even by his standards." Roland glanced at Duncan's untouched food. "You gonna eat that or what?"

"Er no." The bowl was snatched out of his hands and although he knew he'd regret it later he couldn't be bothered to care. He looked down on his empty hands. Commander Mathilde had been slow in forgiving him for breaking her nose, unsurprisingly. Gradually he had been given greater responsibilities and after a request by King Maric himself, she had agreed to once again allow Duncan to be the one carrying the next batch of missives to Denerim. Perhaps then he would finally be able to put things behind him. Roland finished of the last of the food. "I'm glad you're back, I missed you." Duncan finally said.

"I've missed you too shrimp. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're moving up, just do it for the right reasons."

-ooo-

Riordan pushed the trembling heels of his palms into his eyes, he was sweating like a pig and his current hangover was killing him. His stomach heaved. Lurching to his feet he managed to stagger a few paces to empty what little was left in it into the lava. He stared into the glowing depths, feeling the hot wind scorching his face dry and briefly toyed with the thought that it would be easy to just let go, but with his luck he would probably get caught on a ledge and only manage to burn off a leg or so.

He actually preferred the Roads to the barracks in Jader. Killing Darkspawn gave him some kind of purpose. Perhaps he overdid his Spawn call at times, but he was still alive wasn't he, and while he killed there was no room for thinking. His talent for drawing out Spawn and his taste for slaughtering the creatures had earned him a reputation for being a man you kept close when Spawn was around and far away at all other times, which suited him fine. He took as many missions into the Roads he was allowed and fervently hoped someone or something would eventually kill him. During this past year he had followed orders on occasion, gotten drunk when he could and laid whenever possible. In any regular army he would have been expelled or possibly executed a long time ago, but that was not the way of the Wardens, once you passed the Joining you were too valuable to be discarded unless you went completely deranged. With some of the people here at Jader he wondered if even that mattered.

The rest of the group was preparing a hasty meal and seemed in high spirits. Another foray into the Deep Roads was coming to an end. This time they had not been searching for Spawn but treasure, hired by some enterprising merchant or desperate noble; Riordan didn't care. Either way nothing had been found but they were getting near the surface and only one Warden had been lost so far. If they pressed on they would be out by tomorrow nightfall. Riordan wanted nothing to do with their cheer; he lowered his head onto his arms and tried to blot them out.

Unbidden, memories of his own Joining group rose to the surface. Except for Duncan, they had all been to Jader for one reason or another. Roland had given him the dressing down of his life, with bells on. It had all made sense of course, the man was absolutely right. Riordan had let down more people than just Duncan. Before leaving, Roland had nevertheless given him a hug that had threatened to crush all his ribs which was much worse than being yelled at. Josian had made quite a good show of sympathy which was something of a surprise and Amaury had actually seemed sincere. Well, they had always gotten along and the man didn't know any better.

The real surprise had been Renna showing up only a week or so after his arrival, healing him despite protests and cursing. When he woke from her knock out spell she had asked him if he would prefer to accompany her to Weisshaupt . He had opened his mouth to voice his disdain when he realised that it was a rather attractive offer. Teaming up with Renna meant companionship based on a healthy respect for each other's capabilities and ruthlessness instead of trust and...whatever he'd had with Duncan, but no, he didn't dislike Renna quite enough to do that. They had parted civilly enough and when Renna had told him to try and keep out of harm's way she had sounded sincere.

They had all had news of Montsimmard to share with him and Vittorio. He never asked for news of Duncan but was given them anyway. Some idiot he barely knew claimed the man had gotten into a fight with the commander over Riordan's transfer and subsequently been thrown in solitary. Riordan didn't put much store in that since none of the old gang never mentioned it, besides Duncan would never do something so stupid, that was Riordan's territory. Sometimes he wondered if Duncan had ever asked about him. He supposed not. In the beginning he had missed the man like a limb chopped off. He would wake at night finding himself reaching out with the Taint for something that wasn't there anymore. He cured himself the only way he knew.

As the group was called to move on he managed to raise his head. Thank the Maker he wasn't alone with the recruits this time. Darkspawn had recently grown bolder and more numerous and now there were always four or five experienced Wardens on any foray into the Roads. A young recruit went over to him and squatted by his side. The man was gangly and moved with the awkwardness of lingering adolescence, not that it was noticeable in battle. "Are you all right?" He held out a canteen, no doubt it was water. Riordan cursed himself. During his time in Jader he had quite successfully repulsed any attempt at friendship. He would even go as far as to say he had a natural talent for it. He knew bloody well why this new recruit had latched on to him. He should never have stood up for the lad back in Orzammar. It had not even been for his sake, Riordan had just wanted the pleasure of stomping all over Vittorio. But how could he explain that now? It was too late, the story of his life.

"Never better." Riordan managed a smile. "If you remember nothing else from the Roads, remember this; don't ever drink anything made from lichen." The young man gave a nervous laugh as Riordan clambered to his feet. "Since I am feeling generous, I'll give you another one for free; if a very short woman in a bar in Orzammar tells you she can make you forget everything; she's lying."

The recruit laughed again, more at ease now. "I think I have to try that myself, just to make sure."

Riordan clapped him on the shoulder. "You do that!"

-ooo-

When the young man's heart stopped it was Riordan who closed his eyes and muttered the words that had ceased to mean anything to him long ago. He hated himself for not remembering his name. Instead he called up every memory he had of him and carried him to the pyre with all the tenderness he could muster, that was all he had to give.

He almost killed Vittorio that same evening. Spending a month in a cell was a small price to pay and it had the added bonus of the Antivan being sent back to Montismmard. When Riordan wasn't hurting for a drink, he actually managed to sleep. Re-arranging Vittorio's face had given him more satisfaction than he could possibly have imagined and when he finally was let out, it helped him endure the rambling lecture of responsibility and example he received from a haggard looking Didier, the first senior of Jader. Actually, he mused, the man wasn't half bad and might have made something of this place, had he not been saddled with the likes of Riordan. The man finished with note of hopelessness in his voice, "I sincerely hope you learned something from this.

"Oh absolutely! I will never again stay sober four weeks running."


	33. The Deep Roads

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Jaden, FenZev, KS45, and Shakespira. You are all lovely persons! :D I wish I could be half as clever in my replies as you are in your reviews...

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><p><strong>The Deep Roads<strong>

"There are other Wardens here!" One of the Juniors whispered, shattering the tense silence.

"Oh shut up, it's just jitters and Spawn." Riordan snapped. Thank the fucking Maker he wasn't alone with the babies. Another day, another trip into the Roads. Riordan suspected he would soon know every Maker forsaken back entrance and tainted tunnel in Orlais and the Frostbacks. The Spawn were definitely getting restless and people in the more remote villages had suddenly remembered the Grey Wardens. Not that he minded. "Take your complaints to the next man will you!"

The group had just settled to rest and he was busily getting stuck into a bottle of Morholt's finest with Morholt himself, one of the few dwarves Riordan had encountered in the Wardens. The man's moonshine was legendary and by Riordan's standard's he was good drinking company, he knew to shut up and drink.

"No, I'm sure," insisted the man, who obviously had no sense of self preservation. Seeing Riordan staring he hurriedly added, "I'm really good at this, even one of the Seniors said so. I don't mean no offence or anything..." The warden wilted in the heat of Riordan's glare but struggled on nervously," ...but there are wardens as well as Spawn down that direction. Feel for yourself Ser."

With an annoyed huff Riordan reached out with the Taint. He went from pleasant intoxication to sharp sobriety in the blinking of an eye. No, it couldn't be, yet the feeling was so strong... With the sudden surge of joy came panic. "Blight and blood!" He shot to his feet and snatched up one of the torches that were crammed into cracks in the stone. "This way!"

"What the...you idiot!" Morholt shouted after him as the dwarf rescued the precious moonshine, Riordan paid him no heed. First striding, then running as he became more certain of his direction, he struck down one of smaller tunnels. The familiar pull of the Taint became stronger and fear threatened to overwhelm him. His hands became slick with sweat and it was hard to breathe past the heart that seemed to clog his throat. The Taint of Spawn was like sinister currents in the darkness of his mind but the other presence was like a beacon; calling him. He heard the sounds of battle long before he saw it. Heedless of any danger that might lurk he dashed out into a small cavern lit by one of the odd lava flows that the Dwarves in ancient times so ingeniously utilised to illuminate the Roads. Before him stretched a half crumbled bridge. Unthinking he tossed the torch aside, drew his weapons and ran onto it.

The sight below struck him like a blow. In the gorge, perhaps fifteen feet down, he could see Duncan, naturally bloody Duncan, trying to hold off a swarm of Spawn with only one man at his side. Behind them crouched a couple of terrified recruits who didn't even have the sense not to hamper them. Duncan was striking fast, making every movement count. He spun in a dance of death and before him were already several bodies. The cavern floor was wet with blood. Eventually he would tire though, or one of the monsters would get lucky and find an opening. Riordan gave the strongest Spawn-call he could muster and jumped.

Even though he managed to land on one of the Bugeyes he was almost knocked out. Then wind was jarred from him and he felt the pain of ribs snapping. Shaking his head as he battled to his feet he saw that he had managed to throw the Spawn into disarray. They were milling about trying to figure out in which direction to attack. Even without seeing Duncan he knew that the man would seize the opportunity. As Riordan started to lay about with his sword he caught a glimpse of the other members of his group clambering down a path near the end of the bridge. Of course there was a path! As the crowd of enemies turned from him to counter this new threat, he managed to cut a swath towards Duncan. When he finally reached his friend's side, Duncan yanked the blade from the last Spawn he'd killed and staggered back. In two strides Riordan was there to catch him.

"Makers sodding balls! What's your problem? You think you are a bloody immortal, you blighted moron!" He shouted, shaking the other man by the shoulders. Duncan straightened.

"Hello Riordan, I'm glad to see you too. Before Riordan had a chance to realise what was coming, his face exploded with pain. He stumbled backwards and shook his head to clear it.

"Was that good for you too?" He asked probing for anything broken.

Duncan grimaced and shook his hand. "You have no fucking idea!

Riordan stared at him for a heartbeat and then pulled him into an embrace hard enough to make them both wince.

"Easy there." Duncan gasped. "I took a cut on the left."

"Of course you did, how many times do I have to tell you? Relax I've got you now." He took a deep shuddering breath and got a lungful of Spawn blood, sweat and Duncan, the latter he didn't mind at all. "Sweet Andraste," he said softly, "I didn't even realise how much I've missed you."

"I have, believe me, I have." Duncan mumbled against his neck. There was a queer sound to his voice.

"Um, Duncan, you aren't crying are you?" He whispered, speaking Fereldan just in case.

"Maker no! Got some Spawn-filth in my face." Duncan hugged him tighter.

"Take your time." Riordan's voice sounded rough even to himself. He looked around and found a familiar face. "And you Gregor, round up the rest!"

"Will do Ser, but with all respect, it's Guilbert." The man replied with a wry smile.

"Whatever." Riordan replied absentmindedly, clutching the only thing that made sense in this world.

-ooo-

Duncan was amazed at how fast they fell into old habits, as if they had been apart for a few days instead of a year and a half. As Riordan cleaned and bound his wounds with his usual deftness, he said, "Heard Geoffrey threaten to drop those wastrels of yours, into the lava. He's shaping up nicely isn't he?

Duncan smiled. "Guilbert? Yes he is."

"What the Blight were you doing there anyway, where's the rest?"

"The rookies decided to go Spawn hunting on their own. I told the others to head for the surface while Guilbert and I went looking for them. Didn't expect to run into an entire horde."

"They should count their blessings they're not mine." Duncan felt Riordan tightening the bandage as he continued, "I've heard some good things about you, though I never doubted I would."

"I've heard ...things about you." Duncan retorted with a crooked grin.

"Ah yes, well don't believe everything Vittorio says."

"I don't." Duncan studied his friends face; predictably he avoided the direct gaze. The way Riordan looked bothered him. The man was phenomenally resilient and with the Taint that was in him, he seemed almost indestructible. Roland's words came back to haunt Duncan. Riordan looked tired, his face was gaunt and his eyes were sunken back in their sockets and crowded with shadows. With guilt and sadness swamping him, Duncan reached out and drew Riordan's head down onto his shoulder. He felt the sudden tensioning in the man before he relaxed. "I should have come before but I was hurt and not a little bit pissed off. I wanted to punish you." Duncan murmured.

"Don't waste your time, I do the punishing part perfectly well myself." Riordan spoke into his shoulder.

"I know." Duncan let the feeling of completeness flow through him. He felt the other man carefully lay his hand on the back of his own, as if afraid to be shunned. Duncan added his free hand to drive the message home. They sat in silence before he reluctantly pulled away and regarded Riordan with a frown. "What happened to your hair?" He tugged at the tresses hanging halfway down Riordan's face."

"Hm, let me advise you on how close to a lava flow it's safe to lean when barfing ale."

Duncan burst out laughing. "I've missed you so bloody much!"

"Indeed, I find it hard to imagine how you could have survived without my fountain of knowledge, not to mention my amiable personality." For a moment the other man's self-loathing lay bare and raw, but before Duncan had a chance to open his mouth, Riordan switched tone again and tugged the short beard covering his chin. "But while we're at it, what happened to your face? Makes you look like a fucking pirate."

Duncan decided to take the cue. "I'll have you know the ladies like it." He said in mock affront."

They continued talking quietly, sitting close all through their meal, as if each was afraid the other would vanish if they lost physical contact. The way they excluded everybody else, Duncan realised, must have made them look like old lovers. He found he didn't give a shit.

By unspoken agreement they rolled out their bedding a bit away from the others. Once settled, Duncan murmured, "Tomorrow we'll be heading for the surface again. Have to get back to Montsimmard."

"Don't speak of it!" Riordan whispered, "This is perfect; don't go and ruin it with reality." There was a desperate urgency to his voice.

"I'll get you out if I can, and if you want." Duncan held his breath waiting for an answer.

"Does that really seem like a good idea to you?" Was the muffled reply. He decided to take it as an affirmative, but there was a tension in Riordan's curled up pose that Duncan had never seen before.

"Yes."


	34. The Waking Sea

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Many thanks to those who read and a zillion to Jaden, Fenzev, KS45, Liso66 and Shakespira for taking time to write all these reviews that makes us so motivated to keep the story going!

**Disclaimer: **Something clever is written here, in transparent text.

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><p><strong>The Waking Sea<strong>

When Riordan was called to the first Senior's office he assumed he was in for another tongue lashing and was still trying to figure out which recent offence was the cause as he stepped past a smirking Warden and in to the room, only to find Duncan standing there. The man smiled in his slow earnest way and said, "Hello again Riordan." Riordan was still reeling from the chock of seeing his friend and suspected he must be looking like one of those gaping, bulge eyed fishes down in the harbour, when Didier asked with a puzzled frown,

"Are you sure this is the man you want?"

Suddenly serious Duncan nodded curtly. "Yes, that's the one.

Didier shook his head in disbelief, "Surely you are mistaken," and continued acerbically, "unless you want to learn new ways of offending your Brothers or how to catch five kinds of venereal decease." In hindsight Riordan thought he probably should at least have acted offended, but he was too astonished to discover that the man actually had a sense of humour. He wished he could have somehow preserved the look on the Senior Warden's face when Duncan with a perfectly straight face answered,

"I'm certain. It's a diplomatic mission to Weisshaupt." Didier was insultingly quick to make his decision. Once they had left the office Duncan raised a quizzical eyebrow at Riordan.

"Five?"

"That's malicious slander; I swear by Andraste's nipples, I only caught three!"

-ooo-

Riordan leaned against the railing watching Jader recede into the setting sun as if being swallowed by fire, which was fine by him. He couldn't determine which emotion was strongest, hatred or relief and soul searching had never been his thing. After a while he called it a draw. Duncan was a bloody miracle-worker and he wondered bitterly what this might have cost his friend. He felt rather than saw Duncan approach to settle at his side. "Missing Jader already"

"Like a boil on the arse."

"That bad eh?"

"There were good things," Riordan drawled, "for entertainment we could always put a Blood mage and a Chantry fanatic next to each other at the bar and take bets on who would survive."

"You're kidding right?"

"Fuck no, but I'll tell you one thing, those mages are vicious when cornered." He shook his head. Now was not the time for bitterness. "Of course I don't miss it; I just wish I had gotten my dismissal in writing."

Duncan snorted. "I don't think 'Don't ever show your sorry face here again!' would improve in writing."

"It might, if you added a flourish at the end." Turning his face into the cool spray of water, Riordan breathed deeply. Silence settled between them although so much needed saying. It felt too good to be here, with Duncan right next to him and Jader gone beyond the horizon, he clung to this precious moment of contentment.

"I wish I could have gotten you out sooner, but Mathilde would hear nothing of it." Duncan finally said. "It wasn't until I went to Ferelden that I got an opportunity. They had no men to spare for my trip to Weisshaupt so I told them I could draft someone from Jader. Got that in writing with a handsome seal!"

"I haven't even had the decency to thank you for it."

"There's no need, never was. I would have tried to do it sooner had I known..." Duncan turned to gaze at the snapping sails, "It took a while until my hands stopped twitching from wanting to strangle you." He turned abruptly and grabbed Riordan's arm, hard enough to bruise. "How could you not tell me, me of all people?" Riordan ignored the pain in the arm. It had been so easy to tell himself that Duncan's hurt would be brief and soon forgotten. Looking into the man's face, seeing it plainly displayed there now, the argument was a lot less convincing.

"I was wondering when we'd come to that." He regarded Duncan's hand. "Did it ever occur to you that I was aware of and afraid that you might do something stupid, like object? I didn't see why you should pay for my fuck ups, I still don't. Maybe I was wrong but there it is."

Duncan let go of his arm. "In the Roads...I thought I was finished and all I could think of, when I thought at all," he grimaced, "was that I...never looked you up. Then, when I saw you..."

"I know, me too." Abruptly Riordan pulled their heads together. "I'm a Nug's ass OK?"

Duncan laughed. "I'm the bigger one." They stood there for a few moments before he straightened saying, "Come on, grab your pack," and slung his own gear over his shoulder. Riordan followed him below deck and through a low, narrow doorway. He ducked as Duncan, with a grand sweep of his arm said, "This is ours, we don't have to share with the crew on this trip." Riordan looked around the tiny space that curved along the ship's hull. It was almost entirely filled with two bunk beds and now two armoured men who, with difficulty, may have been able to turn around at the same time. Suddenly looking serious again, Duncan dropped his backpack on the floor and said. "Now that no-one else is listening. I should have asked you in the Roads but I didn't know how. Your mother, finding out? How are you doing?"

"You just keep drawing one breath after another and call it living. What do you expect from me? I'm sorry those bastards killed her. We killed them, end of story. In reality she's been dead to me for many years. Let it lie, if I can, surely so can you?" Riordan turned to stare at the wall. "Leaving you was harder by far." Desperately wanting to forestall any further conversation he bent to rummage through his pack. "The top bunk sucks, shall we toss for it?"

-ooo-

Duncan sat hunched over in the top bunk, trying to memorize the maps whilst gingerly eyeing the lantern which swung worse with each roll of the ship. Some of the maps were badly faded from use and the constantly shifting light didn't make them easier to read. His only consolation was that judging from the tossing and grumbling from below, Riordan wasn't enjoying his price of the bottom bunk. Another wave crashed into the side of the ship, making it shudder and Duncan had to grab the edge of the bunk not to fall out.

Suddenly Riordan shouted, "Makers hairy arse!" and looking over the side, Duncan saw two legs shoot out as the man continued, "It's no use, I'm getting some air." Riordan yanked on his boots and pulled on a tunic.

"Don't lean out too far will you." Duncan said grinning before a damp breeze suddenly filled the tiny cabin, bringing with it the smell of tar and bilge water. The maps were tossed around and he had to cover them bodily to stop them from blowing away. "And close the bloody door!" Swearing he managed to hang on to them.

He continued tracing the route to Weisshaupt but after a while the crick in the neck got the better of him. Straightening he rolled his head, wincing at the cracking sound that could be heard even over the creaking of timber. He frowned worriedly at the door, Riordan had been gone some time and he was beginning to wonder if the man had indeed leaned out too far. As he was contemplating going up on deck, the door burst open and a drenched figure tumbled in, followed by a gush of water. Duncan was so relieved he hardly noticed the maps flapping around.

Riordan wiped the streaming water off his face. "It's getting a lot worse outside but the captain says we're fine, he's taking us into the lee of the coast until it blows over." He flopped down on the edge of the bunk. "Maker I hate ships." Pulling off his boots he emptied them of water on the already sodden floor.

Duncan chuckled. "I've noticed you spend a lot of time stating the things that you hate. Why not try something new for a change, tell me something you like that I don't already know about."

"I think you know all two of them." Riordan pulled the drenched tunic over his head with some difficulty. It was carelessly tossed aside with a wet plop.

Duncan eyed him warily. He could feel Riordan's skittish mood like a tingle across the taint. The man was volatile at the best of times but now it was more than that. He'd been left in no doubt that Riordan was as happy to see him again as he was to see Riordan but something was obviously bothering the man. How long ago had it been since Riordan had gone a day without tasting a drop of alcohol, he wondered?

"I can't believe you choose a ship where the captain has a no-alcohol policy." Riordan sighed, leaning his arms on Duncan's bunk.

Grabbing the man by the neck, Duncan shook it playfully. "You were snooping."

"Did you think I was admiring the view all that time? Of all the crazy beliefs out there, that must be one of the worst."

"It'll do you good."

"No it won't. In none of the many situations I imagined myself dying, was I sober. Maybe I should reconsider."

"Maybe you should."

"Why are we going to that miserable place anyway?"

"We're to bring missives of course, and I will report to the First, but the important part is that I have information that I have to deliver personally. Frankly I'm quite nervous."

"Really, why?"

Duncan tried to concentrate on the map instead of the closeness of the other man. "You remember I told you about Fiona. I'm finally going to meet her again, if only to deliver a message and...some information."

"The mage, Alistair's mother?"

"Yes, we were close but that was a long time ago."

"Just like you and me, right?"

"I would like to think we are still close, am I wrong?" He finally dared to look into Riordan's face.

Instead of answering, the other man slowly tilted his head until their lips touched. Duncan felt a sharp stab of desire through his entire body, making his breath hitch. Gently cupping the back of Riordan's head he threaded his fingers through his hair. The other man tensed and Duncan caught his emotions as well, not lust; fear. Immediately he withdrew. "What's wrong?"

"This won't work." Riordan stated flatly and turned away. As the ship lurched he caught himself against the wall.

"Why?" Duncan asked with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I'm nervous," the man spoke with his back turned and his head bowed, "second-guessing myself, wondering if I'm doing the right thing."

Despair made Duncan's response sound harsher than intended. "Come on. You make it sound like you've never felt like this before!"

Riordan turned and looked at him with unblinking eyes. "I haven't, I thought you understood that."

Feeling the other man withdrawing Duncan hurriedly said, "No, no I didn't, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, it's not your fault?" Abruptly Riordan slammed his fist against the wall. He rubbed the hand absentmindedly whilst taking deep shuddering breaths.

Sliding off the bunk Duncan asked quietly. "Why are you doing this?" Riordan didn't try pulling away but neither did he look at him.

With a bitter snort he said, "Because I'm fucked up. I thought you knew that too."

Duncan knew then it was time to retreat, if he pushed he might lose everything. Unexpectedly the other man reached out to touch his cheek. "I think you should meet your Fiona but you should consider shaving first, so she'll recognise you." Before Duncan had time to react, much less reply, Riordan had slipped back into his bunk. There was a curse as he hit something and a muffled "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Duncan answered before climbing back to bed.

-ooo-

He woke with a start from a nightmare he couldn't remember. Its sense of loss followed him from the Fade and for a few heavy heartbeats he laid there listening to the sounds of the ship before he realised he could no longer hear Riordan. There was a moment of panic before the Taint told him the man was still there. Easing himself to the floor he crouched by Riordan's bunk. Duncan noted that he resembled more than ever a half-starved wolf that had been living outside the pack for too long. If the stories he'd heard were correct, the man had spent more time below ground than above. More than anything, he wanted to bring back the friend he knew was somewhere in there; the one who would smile at him with undisguised pleasure when Duncan bested him, or he Duncan. The one he could share his doubts and fears with, the one who had finally trusted him and whom he, in return, trusted without reservation. Also, he hardly dared admit it to himself even now, the one who would kiss him hard enough to chip a tooth. Right now he didn't know if such a thing could happen ever again. Both of them had changed.

The man's face was almost hidden by hair and Duncan couldn't resist removing the strands close to his mouth. He let the rest be, Riordan preferred it that way, or at least, he used to. It crossed Duncan's mind that he didn't really know anymore. The insight was depressing. He sank down on the floor with his back against the wall and sat awhile, unable to shake the feeling that his friend would be gone in the morning if he didn't watch him.


	35. The First

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Major hugs to Jaden, Fenzev, KS45 and Shakespira for taking the time to review as well as read.

**Disclaimer:** The usual, really sometimes! Can't you do an overall grovel somewhere. FDA?

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><p>"Wake up! You were so far away I could have nicked your food without you even noticing." Riordan laughed as his companion started from his thoughts.<p>

"Never!" Duncan bent theatrically over the bowl of cooling stew.

"So what's on your mind?"

With an embarrassed smile Duncan admitted, "I was thinking of Fiona."

Riordan began to gather the dirty dishes since it was pretty obvious the other man was lost to the world. "Again?" He said casually.

"I'm a bit nervous seeing her; we shared so much and then nothing."

"Not even a letter?"

"Only the one, shortly after she arrived in Weisshaupt."

"That's odd, if you were close that is."

"Not necessarily, she's a rather complicated person." They sat in silence; Duncan seemed lost in thoughts once more. Finally Riordan stretched.

"Come on let's get into the tent, it'll get even colder tonight. I can't believe that the first Wardens actually fought to retrieve this land from the Spawn, they should have let them have it, would have gotten them back underground quicker than a Templar to a brothel."

He got a laugh for that but he could tell Duncan's thoughts were still with Fiona. Riordan never knew her, all he remembered was a prickly elven mage with huge dark eyes AND the fact that she was beautiful. She'd slept with the king of Ferelden, so what? That didn't mean there had been nothing between her and Duncan too and Riordan wished the man all the happiness he could find. He had no idea what Duncan saw in him though, but he knew it would pass since the man was probably the most discerning person he'd ever met. The bond of friendship they shared, now that was something that might last, unless of course, Riordan himself screwed it up; again.

He was painfully aware that he had left Duncan hanging since that night at sea and that Duncan had treated him a bit like he was made of glass afterwards, something Riordan both disliked and found a bit embarrassing. Unfortunately he had had no idea of how to put an end to it without hurting his friend. When the weather had started getting really cold Riordan had carelessly lain down close to his companion's back, like in the past, expecting the usual banter and complaints about who was crowding who, only to feel the man suddenly tensing. He had pretended not to notice and after a few nights they had been back in their old routines. Even so, try as he might, he couldn't forget that pang of fear at the indication that he'd lost something important.

They pooled the blankets and settled down, for once Duncan was the first to slip into the Fade. Riordan lay at his back, breathing in the smell of leather, sweat and that elusive ingredient that was Duncan, drawing comfort from it. He briefly wondered if Duncan ever did the same, not likely. Yet he seemed to vaguely recall hands removing hair from his face and a discrete touch to his shoulder. It was probably just wishful thinking; some of the beverages he drank had their side effects. '_You're being childish,_' he told himself, '_leave it be!_'

-ooo-

Weisshaupt fortress was almost as big as the town itself and perched above it allowing no citizen to forget who held the true power in this country. The weak king could do little against the formidable power of the Grey Wardens; apparently there were nearly a thousand of them, an army unto itself.

The road to the front gates was steep and narrow but cobbled. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed off the cliff walls that rose on either side. Considering how the gates in Montsimmard had been kept open for so long that nobody knew if they could actually be shut, it was fascinating to watch the surly guards scrutinized Duncan's papers before allowing the travellers access.

They rode through two courtyards before they were stopped by another grim man who barked out orders to have their horses taken care off and the Wardens themselves brought to their rooms. The way there seemed lined with unfriendly faces and tall and graceful architecture that rivalled anything Riordan had ever seen. Despite the beauty of the place, with its carved pillars carrying up pointed arches and the multitude of towers rising above it all, it felt cold and inhospitable: architecture for gods, not people. The fire lit in Riordan's room was welcome but did little to thaw out the look on the face of the man who brought him there. Riordan had always considered Renna extremely cold and humourless, now he began to wonder if she had been sent to Orlais on account of her excellent social skills.

He slunk into Duncan's room and found the man reading a message, half the contents of his pack already scattered on the floor. As Riordan flung himself down into one of the room's two chairs, Duncan looked up and tossed him a medallion. "I was given these. Apparently they mean we can come and go pretty much as we please. Don't lose it or you'll end up sleeping in the streets."

"Fat lot of difference that would make." Riordan muttered as he turned the medallion over. It had a chain so he could hang it around his neck. He looked up at Duncan. "What's the plan?"

"We're wanted." Duncan brandished the message he'd been reading.

-ooo-

Riordan was under no illusion that meeting with the First and his minions would be anything but a boring affair. Sometimes it was a bitch to be right. He and Duncan were brought into a hall dominated by long tables arranged in a horse shoe shape. They were left standing once Duncan had delivered the missives and Riordan had the disconcerting feeling they were on trial. He quickly got the message that Orlesian Wardens were viewed as inferior, not even Amaury could have missed that; well maybe. Duncan was as cool as ever and spoke softly, yet his voice carried to the far corners of the hall, and if the Anders' Wardens attitude bothered him it didn't show. Riordan felt a sudden pride in him before allowing the talk to become unintelligible background noise. An abrupt change in the tone of one of the Anders Wardens made his ears prick up.

"Dwarves? You suggest we make the entire Legion of The Dead Wardens?" The man's voice was incredulous.

"Why not? They are Wardens in everything but the name and Taint. Imagine what they could accomplish with our support, our gifts."

Riordan had no idea of where this discussion had come from but it sounded reasonable enough. There weren't' many dwarves in the Warden's since their race considered it a shame to dwell on the surface and those who did were outcasts, but the dwarven Wardens Riordan had met were skilled and hardy.

"You young ones, you're so naive. Think of what they might accomplish!" The Anders Warden chuckled in a way that made Riordan want to kick his teeth in. Duncan seemed unfazed by the man though.

"I' don't quite follow you I'm afraid." He said politely.

A woman, the only one in the room, leaned forward with a condescending smile. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that the Legion managed to push back the Darkspawn, what then?"

"I guess the dwarves eventually could reclaim the Deep Roads."

"Correct, and then?"

Riordan failed to see where this was going and Duncan soldiered on. "The dwarven Kingdom would flourish?"

"Again correct. Here's a clever one." The Wardens gave tight little laughs. "And?"

"The Blight would be checked even before it reached the surface." Duncan was beginning to sound a little irritated. "I really don't see how this can be a bad thing?"

An elderly Warden who could not have far until his Calling and whom Riordan assumed was the First rose. "You do know that to create new Grey Wardens, a drop of Archdemon blood is required?"

"Yes."

"So without that source, within thirty years we would be unable to make more Grey Wardens."

"I guess, yes."

"So, what if the dwarves had access to the source and humans did not? What would stop them from allowing a Blight to reach the surface then follow in it's wake and claim it all?"

Duncan actually sounded baffled now. "There would be nothing left to claim, besides dwarves stay underground since to them it's inherent with great shame to go above."

"Do not presume to lecture us about dwarves! Bah, all it takes is one clever King and a few generations. Unlike the Dalish elves they are a lusty and prolific people. The Darkspawn are the only thing keeping them in line. Among the Wardens how many are elves or dwarves?"

"Only a few." There was an edge to Duncan's voice now although Riordan suspected only he could hear it.

"That is correct, we don't encourage dwarves to join. We discovered long ago that they have a much better survival rate than humans, or elves. Luckily they are reluctant since they have the Legion instead."

The First, who'd wandered over until he now stood before them, laid a hand on Duncan's shoulder and gave him a condescending smile. "Duncan of the Grey Wardens, you have the right mettle, just not the wisdom yet."

"Then I thank you for sharing yours, Brother." The cool sarcasm of his voice was completely obliterated by the First's arrogance.

"Indeed. Some of my colleagues wish to speak with you again but that can wait until tomorrow."

Duncan bowed. "Of course." He said smoothly.

The First turned his piercing gaze on Riordan for the first time.

"And you Orlesian, do you share these visions of your colleague?"

"Me? No no, Duncan is the brains here. All I can think about right now is fucking dwarves."

-ooo-

"All I can think about is fucking dwarves! Are you insane? That was the First!"

"So?" Riordan threw himself down on Duncan's bed.

Duncan shook his head. "Never mind."

Glancing sharply at him Riordan continued, "and should anyone consider you unfit to spread your revolutionary ideas, I think I have established myself as an Orlesian moron of no consequence, yes?"

The other man's face fell. "Riordan, I'm sorry, I..."

"No worries, I get that a lot. Now why don't we go and find a nice place to drink?"

The sheepish look on his friends face told Riordan what was coming before the man spoke. "Wish I could, but I'm going to try and catch Fiona tonight."

"Ah of course. No problem, I think I can manage to find a drink by my very own self."

Duncan gave him a wry smile. "I'm sure you can." The man obviously wanted to add something but didn't know how to.

"Come on, I'm not going to start a fight with these guys. I'll just get quietly drunk and laid, if such a thing is possible in this place."

"If it is, I'm fairly certain you will be the one to manage that too."

-ooo-

It was easier than Riordan expected in fact. A small cabinet in his room turned out to be stocked with several bottles of a colourless liquid strong enough to make the hair on his arms stand to end. Making a good start by trying each of the bottles he discovered they all tasted subtly different. Wine-that-burns it was called, or something like that, the servant girl in the bath house told him later in a thick accent. She had a birthmark that covered almost half of her face. Judging by the way she kept her head bowed, he guessed it was seen as a sign of corruption and considered unlucky here, just like everywhere else really. It didn't bother him though, his own corruption was far greater, but hidden on the inside. His answer to her question if he needed anything else surprised her but she seemed almost pathetically eager to accommodate him. When he told her afterwards that she was the best girl he'd ever had, it wasn't far from the truth. He surprised himself by helping her lace up her dress and gave her all the coin he had with him, for ruining her shift, he said, to make her accept the payment. Back in his room he downed more of the spirits trying hard not to envision Duncan intertwined with the fantastic Fiona.

Pacing around the room he suddenly caught sight of his own eyes in the mirror. On a drunken impulse he greeted the idiot staring back at him. They toasted each other, smiling. He went closer for a better look. He knew he was acceptably handsome, enough women had told him that without payment, even Williams wife when she thought no one heard. Discounting the Taint running through his veins, his body responded to all his demands which he guessed counted as healthy. 'What do you want?' He asked the dark man with the pale eyes. There was no reply. He hit the face with the bottle. The sound of breaking glass was beautiful. Ignoring the pain from his bare feet he retrieved another bottle from the cabinet. When he finally collapsed on top of his bed, touching the floor with one practiced hand to stop the room from spinning, he welcomed the Fade like an old friend.


	36. The second

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Review love to Jaden, FenZev and Shakespira. Humble thanks to all who read.

**Disclaimer**: Standard one.

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><p><strong>The Second<strong>

"Didn't much fancy the beard, did she?" Duncan started at hearing Riordan's voice. The man had been silently reclining on his bed, restlessly tossing and catching a dagger, ever since he arrived. Despite the silence, the tension was thick in the room.

"Blight! Now I've cut myself!" Duncan growled, reaching for a towel.

"Pfft, didn't get any I take it?" Riordan's voice was a mocking drawl, putting Duncan's teeth on edge. What was wrong with the Blighted man? Duncan had thought they almost had gotten back to the way they were before Jader, despite that disastrous incident on the ship. Now he wondered if he'd been mistaken. The other day he'd found Riordan passed out on the bed, blood staining the sheets and the room filled with fumes of alcohol so strong they made Duncan's eyes water. He spent ages picking bits of glass out of the semi-conscious man's feet but he doubted Riordan even remembered him being there. The man stretched out on the bed now, reminded him of a large, angry cat. If Riordan had had a tail, it would have been twitching irritably against the mattress.

"Not your bloody business." Duncan snapped.

"Definitely didn't get any." Was there a smirk on Riordan's face as the dagger spun near the ceiling?

Duncan turned back to the mirror feeling tired and defeated. Riordan was slipping away from him and he didn't even know why. He sighed. "It's not like that."

"Oh, serious then?"

Keeping a firm grip on his irritation Duncan shook his head and turned again, trying to catch the other man's eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just...these past days I have been closeted with what seems like an endless stream of paranoid bureaucrats when all I wanted was to talk to Fiona." Tracking the spinning dagger as it left Riordan's hand, Duncan suddenly froze. "Wait! Is that one of mine?" He sucked in his breath as Riordan against all odds managed to catch it by the hilt.

"Maker what's wrong with you? Of course not! Now the small blade seemed to be pirouetting between Riordan's hands. What do the bastards want with you anyway?"

"Some seem friendly enough, they just want information and updates on things. Others are clearly trying to find out more about Ferelden and Maric, they're still asking about Genevieve's trip. A few seem genuinely interested in my idea concerning the Legion. Is that trick a new one?

"Learnt it from a dwarf in Jader, only he did it with axes. Cost him a few fingers but as long as he could hold a tankard he didn't mind much."

Duncan could only too well imagine Riordan and that unnamed person 'perfecting' their skills and sobriety probably didn't enter into it. As so often he felt torn, Riordan's recklessness attracted as much as it alarmed him and he really didn't need any kind of attraction as far as Riordan was concerned.

"So, except for trashing your room, what have you been up to?" He said dryly.

The other man shrugged. "Laying low. Had a look for Renna but it turns out she's off on some research mission." He continued in a sarcastic drawl. "Been broadening my mind and allowed myself to be dragged to at least half a dozen shrines, dedicated to Wardens whose names I sadly can't recall at the moment. But today I will get to do something worthwhile, not a moment too soon."

Alarm bells immediately went off in Duncan's head. "What kind of 'worthwhile'?"

"I'll be defending the honour of the Wardens of Orlais. Not my words. The guys at Jader would laugh their asses off if they ever heard that."

Duncan bit back a groan. He should have known this would happen, it really only was a matter of time. He felt the sting of guilt; he should have taken at least the one evening to have a drink, or many, with his friend. "You just sort of accidentally accepted a challenge from these guys?" He asked irritably.

"It was something they said, then one thing led to another and before I knew it, it was settled." Riordan sounded smug. All things considered, it wasn't a terrible idea, merely very bad, Duncan thought sourly. During these past days, He had had his fill of arrogant Anders Wardens looking down their noses at him.

"So how many are we talking here?" Knowing Riordan, the man probably had the entire thousand odd Wardens queuing up to teach him the inferiority of their Orlesian brethren.

Just two guys and a woman."

"Ah, one is a woman, well that's all right then!" Duncan didn't bother keeping the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Probably a woman, it's bloody hard to tell sometimes."

"Right, when?"

"Today, now in fact. I wish I was less hungover but it should be fine." Riordan gave the dagger a final spin before tucking it away.

With a sigh, Duncan started donning his armour. "Better tell them you brought a friend." Bloody Anders Warden's, they were probably elite fighters one and all since they were here at Weisshaupt. "Two men and one woman..." he grumbled.

"_Possibly_ a woman. I leave it up to you to decide." Riordan smiled disarmingly.

-ooo-

The cold air nipped at Duncan's nose and made his eyes water. Despite the thick layers of leather armour, he could feel it sending cold tendrils against his skin. The world smelled of ice and the mud beneath his feet had frozen into a latticework of crystals that crunched as he walked. Every breath he took sent out a cloud of mist. It was going to be a cold night and the blue evening light was already moving in.

The training yard at Weisshaupt was much larger than the one at Montsimmard and yet seemed full of people. In Montsimmard training wasn't exactly optional but nor was it an organised affair. The master at arms would simply glare angrily at any Wardens who didn't make an appearance at least a few times a week. There might possibly even be a reprimand from higher up for the particularly slovenly Warden. But the sparring sessions were little more than mock battles between two or more Wardens and sometimes descended into downright brawls when tempers ran high. Most Wardens needed little prompting to do any kind of training though, it wasn't as if they had much else to do between routing out the occasional band of Spawn or escorting various nobles and merchants. The evenings were generally reserved for drinking and gambling, but during the day, putting dents in your fellow Warden was as good a pastime as any. Here, diligent Wardens were lined up and being put through their paces in an organised manner that made Duncan shudder. He glanced over at Riordan who looked the worse for wear and had an alarming slump to his shoulders. "You sure you're up for this?" Riordan flashed him a sly smile completely at odds with his otherwise miserable demeanour.

"This hangover is a real monster; I certainly won't be my best." Duncan snorted. If he was going to commit this stupidity, he might as well do it properly and pulling a fast one on the Anders Wardens would be a pleasure.

They headed for a fenced in area where people were sparring one on one under the supervision of a man who may not have had much stature but made up for it in width. He looked odd and it took Duncan a moment to realise that it was his complete lack of hair. Bald men weren't exactly uncommon but this man had no eyebrows or eyelashes either. Raising a non-existent eyebrow at the sight of Duncan gave his face a lopsided look. He presented himself as Eber and smiled toothily.

"Didn't expect you to show up. A surprise, but a pleasant one. We drew lots on who would be fighting you first and Tola won.

"Tola, that's the er...lady, right?" Riordan mumbled.

"Indeed! I hope you have nothing against being thrashed by one?" Eber smirked.

"Quite the opposite, if done well I rather enjoy a good thrashing by a...um woman." Riordan sounded a bit befuddled but managed a half-hearted leer. Duncan bit back a snigger. "However," Riordan waved carelessly in Duncan's direction, "we're two now so I suggest you add a few more to even the odds, as many as you deem necessary."

Eber smiled again. "One more it is!" When Tola and Sakse are done with you, there's a healer through the door over there." He gestured towards a long low building that ran the length of the sparring yard. "Let me know if you need help getting there." Duncan decided it was time he played his part so he stepped in and drawled.

"I doubt that will be necessary."

-ooo-

Entering the now empty sparring field, Duncan rolled his shoulders and felt the balance in the training weapons. They were metal and felt real enough but the points and edges had been blunted. You could still do serious damage with them if you wished, or didn't know what you were doing. For now he would keep the opponents attention on him as the most dangerous target, so he marched out and gave the man and the woman who entered the field with him, a challenging look and his best cocky smile. Behind him shuffled Riordan.

Tola was tall and broad shouldered. Short ginger hair stuck up in untidy spikes and her translucent skin was ruddy with cold. She wielded a mace and shield. Her pale eyes took in Duncan appreciatively before moving onto Riordan. She snorted and gave a tiny shake of her head before saluting and putting on her helmet. Her partner, Sakse Duncan assumed, was a dual wielder and used two long daggers instead of the usual sword and dagger. The man was small and wiry, he looked like a stiff breeze might carry him off although to Duncan everything about him spelled speed. There was no doubt in Duncan's mind that these two people were amongst the finest available here and now. Riordan really knew how to pick them.

As the combatants moved around each other, a focused calm settled over him, he was no longer aware of the crowd watching or the chilly breeze that swept across the yard. It was like being the eye of the storm and he could feel Riordan's vibrant presence; in the back of his mind he was constantly aware of where the man was.

Unfortunately Tola ignored him and went straight for Riordan whilst Sakse danced around keeping Duncan busy with little feints and half-hearted attacks. Obviously they were hoping to take out Riordan quickly as the weaker target and concentrate on Duncan later, not what he had hoped for. He caught sight of Tola slamming her shield into Riordan whose head snapped back. Amazingly he kept on his feet and practically fell out of the woman's way. The amount of punishment that man could take never ceased to astonish Duncan but concern wormed itself into his stomach. Tola was powerful and obviously wanted Riordan to go down quickly and cleanly.

Distracted Duncan narrowly avoided an attack from Sakse. A kick to his leg followed, making it buckle. Cursing his stupidity, he allowed himself to sink down on one knee as he twisted backwards until his spine popped. Sakse's dagger skittered harmlessly over his chest. Duncan hit the man's jaw with the hilt of his sword and managed to stagger upright, slipping away from another assault. He needed to get closer to Riordan. Sakse was little more than a blur as Duncan allowed him to drive him backwards. By now, sweat was trickling down his neck and his blood roared through his veins. It was obvious that neither Anders Warden cared about keeping things safe and friendly; in a way that made things a lot easier. Duncan evaded another stab and as he turned, he saw Tola slam her mace into Riordan's side, this time the man fell. Riordan rolled desperately to avoid her follow up as Duncan threw caution to the wind and threw himself bodily at the woman unbalancing her. He bounced of her armour and used the momentum to spin away from Sakse's daggers. Sensing movement, he almost managed to dodge Tola's mace. It grazed his temple making him see stars and for a few heartbeats, the world seemed distant and fuzzy. As he tried to put some space between him and the Anders Wardens, he saw Riordan move in. The man was grinning through the blood that streamed from his mouth and nose. Completely taken by surprise by an attack from a man who had seemed so inept only moments ago, Tola staggered sideways as Riordan's sword hit her helmet with a deafening clang, almost at the same time as his dagger found a gap in her armour. Duncan blocked another of Sakse's attacks, slipped underneath his guard and managed to get a jab in.

He was back to back with Riordan now and felt the sudden elation he usually felt when fighting at the man's side. Riordan was a force of nature, unpredictable and brutally effective. In whatever way it worked, they complemented each other and in battle they knew each other's minds without effort. Riordan's little ruse had the effect of allowing him a few good hits on Tola before she roared and swept out with her shield, shoving him back to swing at Duncan who was too engaged in an exchange of blows with Sakse to fend her off. Her mace hit him squarely almost in the back. He could practically hear the ribs breaking but angrily shoved the pain aside. Luckily Riordan was quick to cover him against Sakse's renewed attack. Duncan dodged and weaved to avoid Tola's furious blows but couldn't get past her shield. The pain in his side made it hard to breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Riordan holding off Sakse who was so intent on Riordan he left his flank vulnerable but Duncan couldn't get at the man without dropping his guard against Tola, unless... '_Switch!' _he sent to Riordan with all the force he could muster and in a show of trust that only Duncan ever got from him, the man turned away from Sakse and thrust his sword past Tola's shield. Duncan swung low at Sakse and to his surprise was blocked by the rogue, the man really was viciously fast, but he followed up with his dagger and slammed the hilt into the man's throat. Behind him, he could hear the distinct clanking of a heavily armoured body hitting the ground. It sounded like Riordan might be done.

Sakse proved tougher than even Duncan could have imagined. He was gasping for breath as he pounced on Duncan and managed to knock the dagger from his hand. Angry now for underestimating his opponent and feeling the embarrassment of losing his weapon to someone who could barely breathe, Duncan twisted as Sakse's dagger skimmed passed him, and jammed his fingers into the man's mouth. Gripping Sakse's jaw, Duncan jerked his head forward and down, right into his raised knee. This time, when the rogue fell, he didn't get up.

"Took your sweet time." Riordan drawled behind him. The man smiled a grisly smile through the blood on his face. Duncan smiled back. A man in mage robes came running out and headed for the unconscious Sakse. Tola was sitting up and Riordan offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her up with barely a flinch although Duncan was fairly sure he had a few broken ribs himself. A surprisingly good natured Eber declared them all even and as they left the agitated crowd of Anders Wardens behind, Riordan whispered. "You took a heavy blow from that mace, are you sure you're OK?"

"I have at least two cracked ribs, but I'll be damned before I show it. You?"

Riordan laughed under his breath and then winced in pain. "Same here."

-ooo-

Fiona burst into Duncan's room like a tornado. Riordan who had been sitting behind him, wrestling with a buckle that had been damaged during the fight, abruptly got to his feet.

"What kind of idiocy is this? Fighting…and…what possessed you to do something so stupid?" she fumed, her dark eyes darting between the two men.

Duncan felt oddly guilty and shot Riordan a look. "The honour of Orlais I believe it was." He said trying to sound light hearted. Riordan had suddenly gone completely still and was watching Fiona intently. Duncan could feel the shift in his mood but didn't know what it signified, it was plain odd.

Fiona paced the room bristling, reminding Duncan of the edgy elven woman he'd travelled with years ago. "Did you know Tola has killed three men during sparring?"

Before Duncan could open his mouth to protest that they weren't exactly novices here, Riordan butted in, his voice silken over sharp edges. "It's been some years since we needed coddling woman."

"Ah yes, of course, sweet Riordan! I remember you; great body, terrible personality."

Riordan's smile was nasty. "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing." The air between the two almost crackled and Duncan found himself completely at a loss for what was going on. Abruptly Fiona turned to him. "I agree, your friend probably COULD charm squirrels out of trees, IF he wasn't so busy being an asshole."

Wishing he could sink trough the floor Duncan babbled. "Hrm yes, you already know each other so I guess introductions are unnecessary." He winced at the inane comment, whatever happened to the smooth talking con man?

"I believe they are." Riordan said, his eyes never leaving Fiona. Suddenly he made an over exaggerated bow that must have hurt. In the same silken voice as before he continued, "I'll leave Duncan in your no doubt capable hands. Enjoy."

"Riordan, she can heal..." Duncan found himself staring at a closed door. _'What the Blight...' _He looked at Fiona who was frowning thoughtfully before turning to him. He felt healing magic unfurl inside him as her hands fluttered over his chest and sides. As the pain subsided, the unease and confusion remained. "Thank you. Some healers use touch where other's don't, why is that?"

"Contact enhances the power, less mana-drain," Fiona's mouth curved in a mischievous grin, "but they could just be pawing you, like I am." Suddenly she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard. The old Fiona would never have done that but the years in Weisshaupt had smoothed out some of the sharp edges and Duncan felt a calm from her that was new, a woman with a purpose. "Let me guess, that idiotic duel was Riordan's idea?" she mumbled.

"We always made a good team. You make it sound like I have no will on my own."

Fiona pulled away and eyed him seriously. "When it comes to Riordan I wonder... I saw the end of it all and yes, you fight very well together but in other things, please don't let him lead!"

"I'm sorry about Riordan. I mean, he's not the easiest," Duncan ignored Fiona's snort and continued, "but he's a good man. I don't know why he was so..." His voice trailed off and he suddenly felt at a loss. "He can be a bit suspicious." He finished lamely. It was as if he didn't know Riordan anymore, if he ever thought was depressing. "He's probably just afraid you would try to read his mind. He's a bit peculiar about that.

"Like I would need to, he's jealous!" Fiona said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He probably thinks we're lovers and is terrified you will stay here with me." Duncan was stunned, yet as he thought about it, it made sense, still...He knew Riordan liked him and there were times he thought there might be more than friendship there. On the other hand, there were also times he suspected the man really wanted nothing else but friendship but didn't tell him for fear of hurting him.

"You sure?"

Fiona's smile was wry. "Fairly, call it woman's intuition or whatever men use as an excuse when we see the obvious that they missed." She tilted her head, the look in her eyes suddenly sad. "You still haven't told me your answer to whether you might consider staying here or not, but I think I know what it might be."

"I have thought about it..." This was true and he could see the advantages of staying in Weisshaupt. Remaining with Fiona, his first true friend within the Wardens, had its appeal too. It wasn't enough though. Fiona shook her head.

"No need to explain." A wry smile curved her mouth but the sadness in her eyes remained. "It feels like you already left." Duncan desperately searched for words but Fiona reached up and pulled his head down so she could press a light kiss on his forehead. "Good bye Duncan. Maker guide your path, wherever it may lead."

With a sigh of relief and regret he chimed in. "And yours, always."

-ooo-

He searched for Riordan for quite some time before he found him, mostly by chance. He had been on his way to the healer's Eber had indicated, when he felt the unmistakable tug in his chest. Turning a corner, he spotted the man by a paddock. There had been a short but heavy snowfall earlier now only a few thin flakes found their way down to settle on the branches of the lone tree most of the horses huddled beneath. Two horses approached Riordan, nuzzling him for treats. Duncan could see him smile briefly before scratching their heads. One of the horses gave up and returned to the tree but the other remained, a rather gangly beast with a handsome dappled grey coat. Riordan was speaking to it and it almost seemed like the horse nodded in sage agreement. Duncan realised that he didn't know if this was something Riordan had always done or if it was a new thing. He approached carefully, not to startle the horse or the man.

"Hi." Riordan spoke without looking at him.

"Hi there, making new friends?"

"You think I'm in need of them? No don't answer that, I know. You'll be good for this place, might shake them up a bit and you can go far here." Finally Riordan looked up. He smiled but it never reached his eyes. "Who knows, you could become First one day. Now wouldn't that be something?" The smile grew wider and the eyes more dull. "Fiona will make you happy too."

Duncan didn't need to go rummaging around Riordan's mind to feel his anguish now. How could he have missed it in the first place? It should have shamed him to feel joy at his friend's misery but right now it warmed him to the core of his being. He tucked the feeling away like the treasure it was.

"You think staying here is a good idea? You know I hate cold. I don't know about you, but I'm leaving tomorrow, just as planned." He said firmly.

Riordan studied him in silence and Duncan could almost see the tension slowly leeching out of him, leaving peace in its wake. A sudden smile, genuine this time, removed the last of the shadows on his face.

"I suppose we better get packing then."

Duncan found himself smiling too. "Good idea." He patted the horse. "Bye boy."

"It's a mare Duncan."

-ooo-

More snow had fallen during the night and apparently it was common with snowfalls well into early summer here. The snow never stayed though, it was promised. Now it was thawing and there was no way Duncan was going to delay the departure. He'd said his good bye to Fiona last night and delaying further would only prolong the sorrow of parting. They had long ago gone their separate ways and Duncan, even if he was sad, didn't feel it as keenly as he'd thought he would.

He and Riordan rode in silence for some time, the melting snow muffling the sound of the horses' hooves. Eventually Riordan said. "You talked about me." It wasn't a question.

Duncan squirmed, thinking of Fiona's comment the previous day. Not his own words exactly but Maker, he wished Riordan had never heard them even so. Typically the man would remember that of all things. "Well yes, it was hard not to say anything about you when I told her what I've been up to." There was no reply and he glanced at Riordan whose face was carefully blank. Duncan silently cursed Fiona, missing her a little bit less. "Look, I'm sorry..."

"No,_ I'm _sorry, even though I still think she's a bitch." A half smile was curling Riordan's lips and Duncan could breathe a little bit easier. Suddenly his friend rose in his stirrups and tugged at a branch letting a load of snow down Duncan's neck. Duncan cursed and clawed at the chilly lumps as they began to melt, dribbling icy water inside his armour. "That's it! You're so dead!"

Riordan laughed, a warm pleasant sound, it was a pity Duncan couldn't appreciate it just then.


	37. The return

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5. Huge thanks to all who read and something extra to Jaden, Fenzev and KS45 for taking time to review as well. :D

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><p><strong>The Return<strong>

Across the table a Warden leant forward to address the Bastard, with a disgustingly eager look on his face. "Is it really true that you drank Mormont, _the_Mormont under the table?"

"Fuck no! No one born of a woman can do that!"

"But we heard..."The Bastard raised his hand, cutting the Warden off.

"Yeah, I heard that too, once I sobered up. The truth is that the son of a bitch tried to head-butt me, don't remember why. Anyway, I got out of the way and he hit high-quality Orzammar granite instead. Didn't see any reason to enlighten him afterwards." The Bastard leaned back with a smug smirk on his face and took another mouthful of ale. There was a round of laughter before someone brought up the subject of Weisshaupt. Watching the man from beneath heavy eyelids, Vittorio sipped his wine, allowing the sounds of the tavern flow over him. It was unfathomable, the hero worship the puta was subjected to by some of the brothers, and sisters. As if getting in a drunken fight required some special skill. Fornicating, simpleminded Orlesians!

Suddenly seeing that son of a whore amble across the courtyard in the company of Duncan earlier today, had been one of the more unpleasant moments in Vittorio's life. The toothy grin he'd received from the Bastard in passing, had sent a stab of fear through him that still rankled. Vittorio realized he was gripping his mug of wine so hard there was a risk of it shattering. Slowly he eased the grip and turned his attention to Duncan who was recounting some sort of duel. He grinned broadly, well sozzled, like all of them, as he gestured, demonstrating a particularly spectacular move. It may have been over exaggerated but Vittorio knew well Duncan's skills, as well as those of the puta who was now laughing and butting in on the story telling.

Why Duncan put up with him was incomprehensible. But of course he didn't just put up with the man, it was obvious that it was HE who had dragged that spawn of two bitches back to Montsimmard and that stung most of all. How could a man such as Duncan not see? Draining his mug, Vittorio wondered bitterly if the Bastard had said anything to Duncan about why Vittorio was sent back to Montsimmard. Perhaps not, nothing had been mentioned here so far, to his immense relief. The pain of his injuries had been nothing compared to the agony of his humiliation. One day the Bastard would pay for it, but Vittorio came from a long line of Antivan nobles that knew that revenge is a dish best served cold. Besides, it had to be done in such a way as not to antagonize Duncan. Then again, what was the expression? Yes, '_give him enough rope to hang himself'_. Given time, Vittorio was confident the swine would oblige.

There was a rumble from Roland in the corner. "Oi, you!" The Bastard had fallen asleep, leaning heavily against the man's enormous frame. Vittorio didn't bother to stop the smirk that pulled at his lips as Roland nudged the man hard.

Jerking upright the Bastard looked blearily around. "What?"

"I was saying, if you want to use me as a pillow any longer, I expect you to pay rent!" Roland chuckled.

"Can't I owe you?" The other man groaned, rubbing his face before his head was caught and crushed against the Warden's massive chest.

"Today you get anything for free, piglet!" At that, the Bastard smacked the back of Roland's head before snatching up his tankard, draining it to the protests of its owner.

"I'll be heading upstairs," he declared, "recommendations anyone?" Vittorio bit back a snigger but unfortunately the roar of laughter from the others, ruined it all. A pity. The lucky puta raised an eyebrow at Duncan who shrugged. Roland took some time to wipe tears from his eyes before explaining.

"The recommendation is _'you don't'_!" After another fit of laughter the Orlesian continued, "They all got crabs a few weeks back you see."

"Ah!" the Bastard winced.

"Wait that's not the best part! Amaury offered to cure it..." The air was full of snorts and giggles and Vittorio sank deeper down onto the bench. Buffoons and children, that's what they were, all of them. Why was he even here? His eyes strayed to Duncan who was grinning, his dark eyes glittering with mirth.

Agitated Amaury waved his hands. "Andraste, this again! The smell will wear off anytime soon," the Mage continued indignantly, "and the poor bugs are gone aren't they?"

"Together with the customers." Josian laughed. "Why do you think they have the door closed? Try the place across the street." Even the knife ear seemed to have swallowed his usual dislike of the Bastard who now scowled suspiciously.

"What's to say the critters just didn't move there?"

Out of the corner of his eye Vittorio saw Duncan rise with a smile, his mood sank further. "I'm coming with you. If we catch anything, the smell can't possibly be worse than your socks after a couple of weeks of camping in the cold."

"No no!" Amaury protested. "I've improved the spell vastly. It's flowery now." Sniggers from the other Wardens drowned out Vittorio's huff.

The arrogant puta looked at Duncan, mouth twitching "Blushing Violet?" He suggested.

"Jealous Jasmine!" Duncan shot back triumphantly.

Roland slammed his mug down on the table. "I give up, count me in. We'll make a damn ugly flower arrangement."

"Honeysuckle Rose!" The other two burst out in unison.

-ooo-

Loud banging on the door woke Vittorio from heavy sleep. Cursing he untangled himself from Augustin, his current lover, a beautiful Tevinter Orlais mongrel with nut brown skin, and sat up. "Che cazzo! Yes yes, what is it?"

"Rise and shine Joy! Line up by the commander's office." Boomed Roland's voice through the door. Still cursing, Vittorio got out of bed. Thankfully, hands more suitable to such menial tasks than his, had carefully cleaned and arranged his armour so he was soon able to step out into the low morning sun, followed by a still yawning Augustin. After a short while, Duncan emerged with the Bastard in tow and the two placed themselves next to Roland. Vittorio glared sourly at them. Last night he'd been rudely interrupted in the middle of a very pleasant moment with Augustin by terrible disharmonious singing, something about flowers. It had been easy to pick out Duncan's deep voice since, whilst he in every other way was a magnificent example of the Maker's might, singing was not amongst his skills. The Bastard's hated voice Vittorio would have recognised anywhere; for all that the man was a surprisingly good singer. All that could be said about the red headed Orlesian's singing was that, as in everything else, he was powerful. The fact that the musical trio looked the worse for wear this morning, squirming uncomfortably in the daylight, was a minor blessing. The door to the commander's office opened and commander Mathilde and a tall wiry man stepped out. Vittorio stared in surprise at Didier.

"Piss and Blood!" The Bastard groaned and Vittorio bit back a snigger when the voice carried across the courtyard. The first senior of Jader turned his head.

To Vittorio's distress Didier only smiled and said in a wry voice. "Ah, a familiar face."

"An unexpected pleasure Ser." The Bastard bowed as Vittorio struggled with his chagrin, this was not how he would have imagined a meeting between the two men, had he imagined it at all. He had no idea of what it meant that Didier was here, but watching the polite exchange set his teeth on edge. Surely that thrice cursed son of a bitch wouldn't once again land on his feet? Luckily commander Mathilde didn't seem too happy about it all either.

"Enjoying being back in Montsimmard?"

"Why yes I am. Thank you for asking Ser." Mathilde was scowling now but if either man was aware of it, they didn't show.

"That's fine then! Did you get your transfer papers?" Didier continued in a conversational tone. Vittorio clenched his fists. Transfer papers! Merda! This could not be true.

Riordan looked nonplussed for a while before answering. "I'm afraid I didn't."

"Darn those clerks! Come to my office, or rather," Didier bowed graciously towards commander Mathilde who gave him a stiff smile, "the commander's office later and we'll sort it out. I have a hunch you know the way."

"Of course, Ser!" Didier nodded once before moving along with Mathilde, whose mouth was set in a grim line. _'Enough rope'_Vittorio reminded himself.

-ooo-

"Look at the Bastard showing off!" The voice at his side pulled Vittorio from his bitter reverie concerning the unfairness of life. His faith would be tested once again, since the Maker had seemed it fit to allow the Bastard to stay in Montsimmard. In whatever way it happened, commander Mathilde had given her permission.

"Si, si, a coward's weapon." To make up for his lack of heat, he spat on the ground and then added, "Why not make yourself useful and get me some wine." The speed with which Augustin dashed off to oblige him, eased some of his bitterness. Having won yet another sparring session, Vittorio had found himself a good spot here on the long bench by the wall. Today finally, the heat of the sun showed true promise of summer. In Antiva the cherry trees would already have finished blossoming, but he had belatedly come to realise that voicing these comparisons did not sit well with the Orlesians, puffed up as they were with the ascent of their unrefined country and its vulgar excesses. At least they could on occasion make a half decent wine, unlike the Maker-cursed Fereldans. The thought made him turn his eyes to the archer's range again.

The puta Riordan, was still making an ass of himself with a crossbow. Firing from a standing position was not enough for him; he had to fire as he moved, rolling, diving and turning. Vittorio recognised all these moves as useful in a real fight and after a while he reluctantly had to admit the man hit the target more often than not. He had a healthy respect for Riordan's skills as a killer, but it didn't mean he had to like it. The Bastard was more a beast than man, a danger to them all. Vittorio liked danger. There had been a time when he would have been happy to sample this particular one. His mouth suddenly felt dry and his gut tightened.

A voice made him look around. Duncan hailed him and with relief Vittorio turned his attention to this far more worthy subject. The relief was short lived as he was blessed, or cursed, with the sight of his brother stripped to the waist from his wrestling match and the sheen of sweat on his chest and arms. The lean, muscled man was a far cry from the wiry, half-starved boy that had joined the Order years ago. The tension in Vittorio's gut increased. Were the Blight was that wine? He watched hungrily as Duncan wandered over to the Bastard, he couldn't hear what the two men said but Duncan took the crossbow offered by the other man, who spent some time supposedly adjusting his stance. Vittiorio's eyes narrowed; surely there was no need for that amount of touching? Uninvited the image of pale hands running across dark skin and dark hands grabbing pale flesh in lust, slipped into his mind.

Duncan fired and hit the target dead centre. There was some cheering from the few bystanders and Vittorio didn't miss the quick look between the two Fereldans. Smiling, the man loaded and fired again, the quarrel went wide. The Bastard laughed and said something. The next moment, Duncan had tackled him to the ground. As the two men wrestled, Vittorio carefully sought Duncan out with his Taint. He was more adroit at it than he let on and it provided a useful advantage at times. Brushing over Duncan's mind now, gave him an odd thrill, he would never have dared, had the man not been otherwise occupied. Strangely he found only happiness. How was that possible? Duncan had just made an ass of himself and right now he was rolling in the dirt with the Bastard like a common street urchin.

Vittorio switched to the other man but as always it was like hitting a wall. When he opened his eyes, he saw the men had stopped their mock battle and the Bastard was loading another crossbow before slowly rolling over onto his stomach, while Duncan was sitting up, talking and gesturing. Only Vittorio and the Bastard knew the crossbow was being aimed right at Vittorio's face. Pain suddenly exploded in his skull and he slipped to his knees, clutching at his head. It took a few terrifying moments for him to realise he was unharmed. Heart still racing he climbed back onto the bench, hoping the sun would dry the cold sweat from his body.

"Your wine Ser, sorry it took so long." Augustine hurried up to him. He waved the excuse away, grabbed the mug and downed half the wine. Sweet and strong it washed away some of the terror. When he glanced towards the archery range he saw two dark heads close together as Duncan and the Bastard talked, excluding the rest of the world, and Vittorio forgotten. The sight stung more than he would have expected. Abruptly he stood up and tossing the mug aside, he snarled at Augustin,"Inside, now!" He took some satisfaction from the brief flash of fear across the other man's face. He wasn't cruel, didn't much enjoy it, but the fear was a balm for his bruised pride and the unexpected pain.

-ooo-

"Why are you looking at me like that? I've been right here all along! Can I help it if the Antivan faints like a maiden in the heat of the sun?" Riordan turned wide innocent eyes at Duncan who had his own opinion about what happened, but it seemed unimportant, especially with Riordan running a hand down his back. "Get your clothes on before you muscles stiffen, then try this baby." He handed Duncan the crossbow he'd just loaded. "It's a bit lighter; I think it will be perfect for you."

"So if any idiot can fire these with adequate accuracy, why waste time with a bow?"

Riordan snorted disdainfully. "Are you playing stupid with me? An archer like Josian or that guy with the broken nose would have six arrows in your sorry corpse before you were ready to fire again. Not that the last five would be needed."

"And you?"

"Perhaps three." Riordan said with a shrug. Duncan turned the weapon over in his hands. Unlike his friend, he had never fought in a regular army, or even a war-band, before joining the Wardens. He was a quick learner though.

"One of the guys I knew in the Val had one of these; he mainly used it to kill cats."

"Cats? Why?"

"Buggers stole our food. The dogs at least, they were company, would get friendly if you gave them a titbit, the cats though...there was a black tom with one evil green eye, we called it Rabbit." Duncan shook himself. "I still hate the sight of them, makes my skin crawl."

"Imagine that, the mighty Duncan, afraid of kittens!" Riordan sniggered.

"I didn't say _that_!"

"That's what I heard!" Still laughing Riordan ducked away from a punch.

"Back to the bows." Duncan said firmly.

"I imagine you would prefer that." Riordan was still grinning. "Anyway, in a tight fight, do nothing fancy. Just fire where the body is biggest. Actually a gut-wound is the best, keeps them screaming for a long time, bloody distracting. If they are riding at you, hit the horse. A wounded horse can do miracles for breaking a charge."

"Hm, yes. Did you fight a lot together with your family or did you learn this later?"

"I fought like the rest, just skirmishes, cattle rustlers like Roland and such. I think I knew every Maker forsaken shepherd's hut on our land. You had your roof-hideouts I had my huts." Duncan was almost afraid to ask more, this was the first time Riordan had revealed something of his life in Ferelden. "Of course the sheepherders ran like the Arch demon was on their tail the moment they saw any of us, my brothers worked hard to earn that reputation."

"But you..."

Something dark crept into the other man's eyes, staining them like ink. "Sometimes Duncan, you get me muddled up with someone else, someone who is just and gives a shit and everything else a good person should do. I am none of those things, not then, not now. What's decent in me, I borrow from you." Riordan jumped up, grabbing a bunch of quarrels. "Get your lazy ass of the ground now and show me what you're good for!" Duncan just wanted to kick the man, hard. As he got up he searched desperately for words but was saved the trouble as a senior Warden approached, calling out to him.

"You, Duncan! Commander wants you."

Suddenly wary he asked, "Why?"

"Do I look like I give a flying fuck?" The man's tired face told Duncan, probably not. He was looking around for his tunic when Riordan grabbed his arm hard.

"Look, if this is anything to do with me..."

Duncan shrugged and said with a lightness he didn't feel, "I doubt it, catch you later."

* * *

><p>Che cazzo – What the fuck<br>Merda - Shit


	38. The game

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Thanks to all who read and rib-crushing hugs to Jaden and FenZev for reviewing! :D

* * *

><p><strong>The Game<strong>

The mess was almost empty which suited Riordan fine as he stared glumly into the cloudy depths of his cider. It was made here in the compound, from the evil tasting apples that grew in the neglected orchard and its main feature was that it was weak. Right now he needed strong but was trying very hard to resist the pull and so far he had kind of succeeded.

"Pony!" A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, nearly making him drop the mug. The flash of anger at being caught off guard like a rookie, vanished as he looked up into the round smiling face of Roland.

"Runt! Long time no see. When did you get back?" There was much backslapping, which Riordan suspected dislodged some of his vital organs.

"Just now, I'm starving! Those stingy merchants never feed their bodyguards properly." The Orlesian made a beeline for the sideboard which, as always, was carrying something to satisfy even the hungriest Warden, and returned with two overflowing plates. He carefully set them on the table and sank down on the bench with a happy sigh. "Tuck in!" He offered magnanimously.

"No thanks, I might lose a hand."

"You need two?" Roland raised an eyebrow. When he spoke next, the words were muffled with food. "So what have you been up to?"

Suddenly feeling almost relaxed, Riordan shrugged. "Out with the grunts, digging latrines, mostly."

"Seriously? That's rookie duty." his friend said incredulously before stuffing a chunk of cheese into his mouth.

"Hey, I do what I'm told these days. Actually, it was kind of funny, seeing Mathilde's pets almost wetting themselves when they were sent to tell me to get a move on."

Roland shook his head. "I'm still stuck at imagining you with a shovel."

Riordan snorted. "Better believe it. I'm a lamb, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, pull the other one, it's got bells on. Didier couldn't get rid of you fast enough."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, that's what he said, I swear." Riordan pushed his plate to the side and took a sip of the watery cider, which tasted a lot better now.

"Maybe he overdid the Antivan Black a little." Roland wiped his fingers on his trousers before grabbing a piece of cold chicken.

"Not the type. Perhaps he was just feeling generous. He got that position in the Val after all."

"Hm maybe, never look a gift horse in the mouth, eh?" Roland belched. "No sign of Rat boy?" Gloom and guilt slapped Riordan in the face like wet towel.

"No."

"Damn, that's what, a month?"

"More." He tried not to clench his teeth but it was difficult and he ignored the sharp look from his friend, who blithely continued,

"Pity Mathilde isn't as open minded as Didier. After Duncan broke her face... He paused to nod at a passing Warden who was heading for the side-board. Riordan refilled their mugs, struggling to regain the pleasant calm of moments ago. He _really _didn't want to think about this, let alone discuss it.

Roland grinned. "Maybe we should slip her some Antivan. Hah, Darkspawn in the Nahashin Marshes, my ass! Aint nothing there but mosquitoes. That woman can carry a grudge to the Black City and back. I wonder how long she's planning to leave him there."

"Cards?" Riordan looked at his friend with the blank face he was an expert at.

"Sure." The Orlesian shrugged. Riordan dealt and after some grumbling, money was placed on the table. A few rounds later, he decided it was safe to change the subject without it seeming too obvious.

"I heard you're not entertaining the wenches like you used too. Pass."

"Indeed not, I've found my match." Roland said calmly, studying his cards.

"Really?" Riordan shuffled his hand. "Who's the lucky one?"

"Her name is Isobel and I think I'm the lucky one, she's a peach! House, Templar on top." Roland chuckled happily.

"Well here's for the Peach then." The two Wardens toasted each other to the dull clunking of pewter. "There will be a few false tears shed among the vixens at The Eel though." Riordan remarked with a frown. "Pass damn you!"

"Bah, let them. Unlike your sorry self, I know a good thing when I see it."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Riordan studiously rearranged his cards.

"I know two fellows that are the kind that somehow always have women swarming around them. Someone should tell the poor wenches not to waste their time. Right?"

Riordan slowly filled up his mug again. "I will forget you said that and from now on, that subject is closed."

Roland blew through his nose. "I talk to you as much as I want, about whatever I want. Told Duncan he should knock that thick skull of yours against a brick wall. Not that it would help – much. That guy is way too careful around you."

"Your turn." Riordan slapped the card down a little bit too hard and found his wrist caught in a vice like grip. He met the other man's glare straight on as Roland said evenly, "Now, my extremely stupid friend, I'm going to point a few things out to you. One - if you mean business, get down to it. Two - if you don't, make it clear as Antivan brandy."

"You finished?"

Roland let go of the wrist, tossed down a card and sat back. "Pretty much yes."

Riordan put his hand on the table without taking his eyes of the man. "Line, Cleric on top."

"You scrawny little bitch!" The chagrin on Roland's face almost made Riordan smile.

"Stop whining and just send them over."

There was a pause while coins were shoved across the table. Roland's scowl faded and he looked thoughtful. "You know why he's out there, don't you?"

Riordan tensed but continued what he was doing. '"_It'll be a month, maybe two at most." Duncan shrugs and pretends everything is fine. Riordan clenches his fists wishing he could finish what Duncan apparently once started and turn Mathilde's face into paste. This is low from a woman of so many principles it would choke the prophet Andraste herself. All Riordan can do is play along, just like Duncan. "Nahashin Marshes right, better get some mosquito ointment, don't want to go and give them poor bugs the Taint." The wry words taste of bile.'_

"Hunting Darkspawn ghosts, we all have to do it when some noble gets twitchy." He replied casually.

Roland huffed. "Don't play stupid with me.

Something snapped and Riordan spat, "What do you want from me? Do I feel guilty Duncan is taking the rap for me? Yes I do! I think about it every fucking moment of every fucking day!"

"And he would do it again." Roland continued unperturbed. "The point is, Duncan obviously loves you and I think your sorry self love him as well, so…

"Are we playing or are you just flapping your mouth?" Silence stretched out between them and Roland kept glaring at him. Riordan quickly glanced around the room. "Look, I know you mean well, but this, this is between me and Duncan."

"As I see it, it's between Riordan and Riordan."

"Ah Maker's blood!" Riordan tossed the cards on the table and drank the rest of the cider from the bottle before rising. "I've changed my mind, I'm off!"

Roland regarded him gravely. "You want company?"

"Hardly."

The Orlesian sighed. "I'm sorry. You're always such a callous bastard it's easy to forget that that's not all there is."

"No, there's shitloads of stupidity too.


	39. The Antivan

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. To Jaden, Fenzev and KS45 -Blowkiss (your ribs may still be sore...;). Thanks to all who read as well.

**Disclaimer:** Insert witty line of your choice.

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><p><strong>The Antivan<strong>

Pain woke Riordan. One of his arms was trapped beneath his body and if the way his shoulder hurt was any indication, he had been out some time. With a groan he rolled over on his back and gingerly tried to massage some life back into his limb. The ground was hard and smooth beneath him, tiles. Apparently he had lost his tunic at some point. There was a soft sound of dripping water and somewhere he could hear muffled voices. The air was warm and humid against his face and smelled of mould and soap; the baths. He was sure there was a perfectly good reason for him to wake up alone, missing some of his clothes and with his trousers open, but for the moment it was beyond recall. He vaguely remembered two women, but after that it was a bit of a blur.

As life returned to his arm with a vengeance, he sat up looking around for something to drink. His head pounded ominously and his vision was blurry, but it might have been the mist that always permeated this place. A hair of the dog would probably take care of things and, if he was lucky, he might pass out again. Surely there must be some remnants of his earlier drinking spree lying around here somewhere? Beneath some wet towels he spotted a promising shape. Retrieving the bottle, he pulled up his trousers once again trying to remember if there had been women involved. If so, they'd made no lasting impression, but to be fair, the impression he'd left on them, probably wasn't to his advantage either.

Just as he pulled out the cork there was a commotion from the corridor outside. With a sigh he drank deeply, so much for just getting back to sleep. The voices grew louder. Suddenly a familiar figure stumbled backwards into the room shouting angrily. "Tua madre si da per niente!" Riordan took another swig from the bottle. Vittorio, at odds with someone as usual and apparently without his crowd of sycophants. From the sound of it, he had quite a number of people riled up. There was a fair chance Riordan would soon be able to lean back and watch the Antivan get a well-deserved thrashing. His mood sank as the other Wardens seemed to change their minds. Nevertheless he enjoyed the spectacle of Vittorio shouting a few more empty threats at the receding voices.

"Ignorant bastards, andate tutti a 'fanculo!" Vittorio turned away with an angry huff. That one was too careful with his pretty face. Riordan remained completely still, waiting for the man to discover he was there and had witnessed it all; that would really ruin Vittorio's evening. True enough, the Antivan started badly when he spotted Riordan, who could see all kinds of emotions parading across his face; surprise, disgust, hate, and - Riordan noted with some satisfaction, fear.

"Making new friends? Good thinking, you need them." He toasted the man with his best evil smile. Vittorio glared from across the pool, whatever else he was, he was no coward and he couldn't back away from this without losing more face. He unbuttoned his ornate vest and let it slip to the floor followed by his shirt. He advanced towards Riordan, who held his eyes, feeling his pulse quicken. _'Maker yes, take a swing at me!'_ With a studied air of nonchalance he raised the bottle to his mouth once more. If he had to use it as a weapon it would be a shame to waste all the good stuff. Vittorio stopped right in front of him and slowly pulled down his trousers. Riordan was almost impressed, that took some guts. There was an instant when he really thought the other man would go for him; he was deeply disappointed when Vittorio suddenly turned away to slip into the pool. That was as far as the man would go? Flashing his dick in his face? He found himself losing interest.

"You're sure not getting any prettier!" Vittorio leaned back against the pool edge, looking at him with satisfaction. Riordan couldn't figure out what he meant and it must have shown on his face. "A few more years and you'll look like a map of the Frostfangs." The Antivan elaborated. Riordan glanced at Vittorio's practically unmarked body; well the guy wore plate and seldom strayed far from competent healers. Absentmindedly Riordan ran a hand over a ridged scar in his side, one of Duncan's worst jobs. He had been told afterwards that he had been bleeding out so fast Duncan's hands were shaking from fear. While Riordan was not keen on losing an eye or something like a limb, it didn't matter much to him what his body looked like, as long as it didn't let him down. He almost felt sorry for Vittorio for having no better taunts than that.

"Want some? But be warned, it might put hairs on your chest." He waved the bottle.

"As if I would touch anything you have touched." Vittorio made a face.

"But you would, as we both know." Riordan drawled and studied the other man's face as blood shot into it. "He doesn't see it but I do!" He stepped up to the edge of the pool staring down at Vittorio. "He'll never look at you the way you want him to; he knows a snake when he sees one. If you weren't such an arrogant asshole I'd almost feel sorry for you." He looked into Vittorio's flashing eyes, by rights the water should now be boiling around the man.

"Faccia di stronzo! You are not worthy of him and you know it." the Antivan hissed. Riordan was surprised to find pain as well as anger twisting the man's features. Vittorio rose and waded across the pool, his fists clenched by his sides. "I don't know what you have done to get such loyalty from him. It should be treasured like the finest of jewels but you, pah, you are a swine that wallows in your own filth! He is willing to let you bask in his presence and yet you never rise above the mud." The Antivan's voice cracked with emotion. Riordan was completely taken aback.

"I hear you, and for what it's worth I agree," he amended after a short pause, "in part, mind you! Here, take some, you need it more than I do." Vittorio snatched the bottle from his hand and almost drained it which was no mean feat. Maybe he had underestimated the man. The Antivan brandished an accusing finger at him before continuing his tirade.

"You meet his honesty with deceit, pretending to be what you are not. I say you're afraid, cacasotto! Afraid that he will one day see your rotten soul and turn away, and he will!

That cut too close to the bone. Riordan sprang into the pool. Before Vittorio could react, he slammed his head against the side, a hand on his throat. The Antivan gathered himself to fight back but it only made Riordan dig his fingers in harder whilst grabbing the man's testicles with his free hand.

"I know what you are thinking, but don't! You're a fair hand with a sword and shield, I'll give you that. But you don't have them now, do you? While I have all I need. Do you understand? He loosened his grip a little, just enough to let Vittorio nod. The man's eyes were starting to bulge and for a moment Riordan found the urge to kill almost overwhelming. He forced himself to take a deep breath, '_No!_'

He slowly released his grip on Vittorio's throat and let his hand slide up to cup his chin while leaning close enough to whisper in his ear, "But believe me, there is no place in Thedas I would hesitate to paint with your brain if you give me reason to. That includes the cathedral of Val Royaux as well as Mathilde's office. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good. I knew we would come to an agreement." Riordan kissed him mockingly on the cheek before withdrawing. He retrieved the discarded bottle together with Vittorio's trousers, garish but dry. As he headed for the door some semblance of spirit seemed to return to the Antivan as he spat,

"You, Bastard, are far more likely to cause him harm than I am!"

Riordan answered without breaking stride. "I know. That's why you're still alive."

-ooo-

Knowing the room was empty, Riordan still paused outside Duncan's door. On an impulse he opened it and slipped inside. The only light was coming through the window to the courtyard. He didn't need it to know that the room was cluttered as always, as if Duncan didn't feel at home until he had filled it with mementoes and misplaced items. Riordan removed a bundle of clothes from one of the chairs near the fireplace and sat down. He deliberated briefly if he should light a candle or something, but finding one in this mess would take forever and darkness suited his mood best. The Antivan's bitter words had struck a chord and kept echoing through his mind. What was he but a leech? A sense of desolation washed over him. He rose to rummage through Duncan's storage chest where he took a good swallow of the strongest stuff he could identify, before corking the bottle again. He was the weak one, as useful as nipples on a bull. Strange that an idiot like Vittorio would point it out to him. He sank down on the edge of the bed knowing he should leave. Instead he let himself topple sideways and rolled over.

-ooo-

Insistent shaking woke him. "You all right?" a familiar voice asked.

Riordan twisted and squinted at the light. "You're back!" He had to grab Duncan with hand and Taint to reassure himself. The other man clasped his hand in return. There was a flash of white teeth.

"Just in time to have my bed stolen it seems." Memories of where he was, rushed back.

"Andraste's ass, I'm sorry, I..."

"Failed to remove your boots?" Duncan suggested dryly. Riordan glanced at his feet.

"Uh, that too."

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Damn the man!What could he say?_ 'No, I'm afraid that one day you will wake up and see me as I truly am and despise me_.' "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

Duncan smiled again, this time with a tinge of sadness. Releasing Riordan's hand he began to pull off his armour. Unsure if he should leave, he didn't particularly want to, Riordan decided to stay put and watched in silence, wondering if it was the shadows that gave that slightly gaunt cast to his friend's face. As Duncan filled the wash basin he glanced wryly towards the bed. "So, passing out on my bed wearing pink trousers has become a habit of yours?"

"I think the colour actually is Royal Purple. We may argue about taste, but you're right, they looked much better on Vittorio."

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Duncan waggled his eyebrows.

"What? Maker no! I just took them." At the concerned look on Duncan's face, Riordan hurriedly added, "No no, he's in mint condition, I swear!" The other man shook his head and continued washing. When done, he walked over to the bed.

"I'm beat but tomorrow you won't wriggle out of telling me all the gory details." Riordan prepared to rise as Duncan slid beneath the covers. "Stay if you like." The words were said in such an offhand manner as to leave the choice open. Kicking off his boots, Riordan answered in the same tone.

"Don't mind if I do. Now I'm sober, I feel less inclined to wander around like this." He lay back on top of the cover, facing Duncan. The man's lids were heavy but the gaze still dangerous. He reached out and touched Riordan's thigh.

"This is pure silk!"

Riordan swallowed. "Vittorio's family still slips him money. There's gold in the embroidery too. We could sell them for a pretty copper." The hand withdrew as Duncan turned over.

"Yeah, let's do that." He murmured sleepily.

If the time before Duncan was asleep was anything to go by, the man must have been utterly exhausted. Restlessly Riordan flopped over on his back. Strangely enough the Demons were silent, all except one. _'You meet his honesty with deceit.' _He studied the patterns on the ceiling with an intensity they certainly didn't deserve. There had been a moment when he had wished for Duncan's touch to linger. He wondered what he would do if the man _wasn't_ so careful around him. He didn't know. Continuing to stare at the ceiling he brought his hand up to twine carefully into Duncan's hair.

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><p><strong>Tua madre si da per niente! - <strong>Your mother gives it away (for free)

**Andate tutti a 'fanculo! - **You can all go fuck yourselves!

**faccia di stronzo - **a very despicable person, a bastard, a son of a bitch

**Cacasotto - **a very fearful person


	40. The Healer

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Uberhugs to KS45, Jaden and Fenzev. Chapter 40, wow, who would have thought that!?

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><p><strong>The Healer<strong>

Just like all the others she stinks of her customers and cheap perfume that can't cover the filth beneath. She looks ancient and haggard under the paint and disgusts him with her falsehood. Even the sounds she makes as he thrusts into her are false but soon they will be genuine enough. At the thought, his lukewarm excitement heats up. His fingers brushes over her breasts where they spill out of the bodice and she smiles knowingly. As his hand continues its journey up, the heat in his groin flares and he picks up the pace. When his hand wraps itself around her neck her eyes widens but she never stands a chance, he's already got her wrists trapped and he squeezes. She twists but he slams into her hard now and years of malnutrition and disease have left her weak. She tries to cry out but it comes out in a grunt. Now the sounds she makes are genuine and he revels in them. She can't lie now. Her life is in his hands and nothing compares to the power that washes through him. There is that moment when her body goes slack and he knows he could let go, let her have what she craves, let her live. But he doesn't, in that decision is the ultimate power. It crashes though him and with a cry he is released.

-ooo-

Amaury stared astonished at the absolute chaos of Duncan's room from the chair where he had been parked; it was so at odds with the man himself. "This is...eh...cosy." he finally said lamely.

Riordan snorted. Amaury smiled in return. He was of the minority that felt easier around Riordan than Duncan. Whatever mess he made with his spells, Riordan was the first one to laugh, even if he himself was affected. He seldom refused to be experimented upon either, especially if he was in his cups. 'One day you'll kill me', he'd said once. Amaury had thought it was a joke at the time, later he wasn't so sure. When healed, no matter how badly, well discounting a few disastrous instances, Riordan always thanked him with perfect courtesy. Duncan on the other hand, liked plans perfectly executed, not that he ever put the blame on anyone but himself. Still, having Duncan's sharp eyes scrutinizing him, always made Amaury feel as if he was lacking some essential part, which made him even more nervous and accident prone. Duncan handed him a mug of whatever was kept in the storage chest. Another was handed to Riordan who sniffed the contents appreciatively. As Duncan settled on the bed he said softly, "Talk".

Amaury squirmed uneasily. They wouldn't believe him. There was no proof, as the commander had firmly told him before politely ordering him to drop the whole thing. Suddenly he felt utterly defeated and longed painfully for the secluded life of the Circle. Being locked up for life with other mages wasn't a problem for someone who travelled so far in his own head as Amaury. If it hadn't been for THAT incident, he would now be buried amongst the books in the huge Circle library. He tore his eyes off the mug in his hands and looked at Duncan whose face showed nothing but patient interest. Perhaps...

"I think Gilow killed those whores, women I mean. I saw one of the girls that died. That is...um...after she was dead. I thought maybe there was something I could do. The Chantry kept her body hoping her family would claim it but nobody came."

'_The room is full of shadows cast by the candles. It should be cold but the many flames make it stuffy and already there's the faint whiff of rot in the air. He pulls back the cloth that covers the too thin body on the pallet. Her face is sunken and underneath the thick layers of paint there are lines of a woman past her prime. The paint has smeared and gives the face an odd smirk. When he examines her, the skin is yielding; the stiffness of death has come and gone. Sadness engulfs him. Defending oneself against an enemy he understands, but this taking of life, as if it had no worth, sickens him.' _

He took a big gulp from the mug. It felt like the inside of his nose was melting and he sneezed. "Sorry." he wheezed. The other two watched and waited for him to continue. "She'd been strangled and looking at the marks it was by somebody fairly strong, most likely a man. I think he held her down by the wrists, probably with one hand as he strangled her with the other..." Engrossed in the technicalities he felt more at ease.

"There's plenty of large strong men in Montsimmard and nearly all of them aren't what's-his-name." Riordan pointed out.

"Gilow." Duncan murmured absentmindedly.

"True but that's not all." Amaury spoke eagerly now. "Aednat had one of the servant girls come to her a while back. She, the girl I mean, had bruises on her neck and needed something for the pain, said she'd been with one of the Wardens and it got a bit rough."

"It's still quite a leap from being a bit rough to murdering whores." Duncan said mildly.

"And who is Aednat?" Riordan asked.

"Aednat, she's assistant in the infirmary." Amaury explained patiently. It came as no surprise that the man didn't remember her, it was simply the way he was. "It's happened several times, always with Gilow. I thought of those whores that have been killed recently. So I...ah, thought I'd look into it. Nobody else seems to care and that isn't right."

"Go on." To Amaury's relief Duncan looked genuinely interested so he told them what he knew. Finally Duncan leaned back looking thoughtful.

"The time frame works, Gilow is quite new here and he's not been long out of Ferelden judging by his Orlesian."

"Wouldn't be the first time a family hides their dirty secrets in the Wardens." Riordan added sarcastically. Amaury was elated, they believed him, but something didn't make sense.

"Why here, why not in the Ferelden Wardens... Not that I wish this problem on them." He hastily added.

"Depends on how dirty a secret now, doesn't it?" Riordan grinned but his eyes were hard. "I'm sure a wealthy merchant family can cough up enough money to make even Mathilde turn a blind eye."

"I would like to think she doesn't know." Duncan was frowning uneasily.

"Perhaps if we explained..." Amaury said nervously.

"No! Just in case." Duncan got up and moved restlessly around the room. "Maker's arse, if this is true, if it comes out, it's not as if the order doesn't have enough trouble already."

"And those women." Amaury reminded him.

"I don't care either way but I bet you one month's armour cleaning I can make Gilow sing like a Canary." Riordan's smile was really unpleasant now. Amaury wondered idly why a Canary? Such an exotic bird. Why not a nightingale or maybe a Blackbird? Then suddenly something occurred to him.

"Ah, what do you mean by making him sing? I don't think..."

Riordan pushed away from his perch on the windowsill. "Why don't we leave the thinking to Duncan."

"We won't touch him, yet." Duncan's voice from behind him was quiet. He didn't miss the quick glance the man got from Riordan. Something seemed to pass between them and Riordan shrugged.

Duncan continued. "I'll check him, see if I can find something more definite." He frowned thoughtfully. "The Taint will be a problem but I still have contacts in the city and I think I can pull a few strings... If it turns out to be him, we'll deal with it then." The malicious smile was back on Riordan's face.

"Naturally."

-ooo-

Amaury looked nervously around. What little light that reached down the lane from the braziers on the main street, only served to highlight the darkness. In the distance he heard voices talking, occasionally interrupted by a shriek of drunken laughter from one of the street whores. "What..." A calloused hand closed over his mouth.

"What did I say about talking?" Riordan's voice was low and gruff. Amaury stopped; a difficult thing for someone who let out words like steam when under pressure. Beyond Riordan, he saw movement and his stomach dropped. He whimpered but Riordan just spoke without turning. "Good of you to join us Rat boy." There was a flash of white teeth before he turned to Duncan who suddenly stood there, barely visible at all. He stepped up to them, making no more sound than a shadow.

"Come."

Amaury tripped over the garbage that littered the lane and tried not to step on the rats that ran across his feet, as they followed the ghostly Duncan; neither he nor Riordan made any sound at all. They stopped as a tiny man with shaven head and a nasty scar across his throat suddenly materialised from out of nowhere.

"He's in a yard with Yasmine, 'bout fifty paces down that lane." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Just a reminder, don't think for a moment that the order would give a shit about what I do to your pathetic corpse, should I find that you've talked." Duncan spoke calmly and dressed simply in black clothes, he suddenly made Amaury think of poison and daggers in the dark. Both his friends had eschewed their swords for simple knives. It struck him then that the men he thought he knew, were just the glossy surface. Beneath lay a darkness and ruthlessness born of a violent past. The odd friendship between the so seemingly different men made more sense when he looked at it that way.

The stranger sniffed. "No need for that sort of thing. We're even and you lot better do whatever you're planning to do 'cause Yasmine has been gone a while." With those words, the man scuttled off.

"Let's hope he's too busy to sense the Taint." Duncan muttered as he slipped past them and down another narrow lane. Thinking of what 'too busy' might mean, Amaury hurried after the others and promptly ran into the back of Riordan. The two men had stopped.

"Would be nice to have somebody ready to catch him from behind. Could you move around?" Riordan murmured.

"Sure, give me a moment. I'll let you know when I'm in place." With that Duncan, jumped, pulled himself up onto the wall that bordered the lane and was immediately lost to sight.

"What, how will we know?" Amaury turned to Riordan who to his surprise had his eyes closed. "Sorry!" An eternity passed, then two. The tension in Amaury rose until it felt like he would burst and predictably his magic swelled and simmered. Faint silvery lights arced across his hands and he crossed his arms to hide them.

"Let's move!" Riordan suddenly set off. Amaury didn't need to be told twice but hurried after him as he continued, "A bit of light when we enter the yard would be useful. A bit, mind you. You blind me the whore won't be the only one to die." Riordan suddenly slowed down and Amaury frantically tried to control his magic as he produced a small glowing orb that hovered over his friend. By now his hands were shaking and sweat trickled into his eyes. Riordan sauntered around the corner and drawled, "Admittedly, I prefer to keep the sweet talk to a minimum myself, but this is perhaps taking things a bit too far."

Amaury peered out from behind Riordan. In the sickly greenish light from the orb he saw Gilow, glaring at them from over his shoulder, his face twisted with rage and chock. Amaury stared mesmerized at the man's buttocks that peeked out atop his trousers. The woman was little more than an indistinct bundle shadowed by Gilow, but horrible rasping breaths came from the darkness.

"Get away from her!" Amaury barely recognised the snarling voice as his own. Clenching his fists as lightning coiled around his arms he knew no more until somebody grabbed him from behind and Riordan's voice shouted,

"Amaury, stop! He's down!" Amaury blinked. The clammy air smelled of hot metal and sulphur. Somewhere somebody cried. He pushed away and Riordan let him go. Staggering towards the sobbing woman, he could just make her out, huddling on the ground against the wall. She shrank back and whimpered as he got near and with a gesture put her to sleep. Cautiously he approached the place where Riordan and Duncan were crouching.

"Is he dead?" he croaked. With the anger gone he felt sickened and dirty. Riordan pulled Gilow up by the front of his tunic and slapped him hard in reply. When they eventually had the man conscious they propped him up against the wall. In the glare of the mage light that Amaury had resurrected, he looked pale. The right half of his face was reddish and blistered from burns. He glared venomously at them.

"So what are you waiting for? Drag me back to the commander; I'll serve whatever time she deems suitable but do you seriously think she cares about what happens to a few whores?"

"You murdered them!" Amaury felt the magic stir but forced it down.

Who will miss them, you?" The smirk on Gilow's face said it all and Amaury looked nervously at his friends.

A dangerous smile spread across Duncan's face. "Guess this isn't your lucky night. Do any of you SEE the commander?" Riordan made a show of looking around.

"Nope."

"Well isn't that just too bad." Duncan turned back to Gilow. "Looks like we have to do the dirty work ourselves." Amaury realised Duncan was talking to him now. "All yours."

It took a few heartbeats for Amaury to understand what he meant. "I..." Gilow laughed and Amaury suddenly hated himself, he was pathetic. He'd wanted this and still he hesitated. But who would have thought justice would feel so...ugly. "I'm sorry..." he finished helplessly. Riordan looked at him but his face was shrouded in shadows. Amaury turned to Duncan who put a hand on his arm.

"Heal him."

"What?"

"You heard me." Duncan stared into his eyes and refused to let him look away. With a sigh Amaury did what he did best and swallowing his revulsion he let healing drain out of him and into Gilow. The man had fallen silent and frowned at Duncan as the burns faded from his face. "Now, heads or Tails?" Duncan held up a coin.

Riordan grinned maliciously. "Heads." Both Amaury and Gilow stared mesmerised as the coin spun in the light before being caught again.

"Wait!" There was panic in Gilow's voice now. "What are you doing? You bastards, you can't do this! The comm...


	41. The archer

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Excessive blow-kisses to Jaden and Fenzev and to all other who take time to read!

I don't always write reviews myself, even when I like something. Sometimes you are to busy, and sometimes it would only feel like repeating what has been written before (and better than anything you can come up with). What I would like to ask for is that those of you who can find the time, add a smiley to the chapter you liked the most. It would be a great help in developing this story from now on. Thanks in advance /Olive :D

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><p><strong>The Archer<strong>

The Darkspawn Taint was getting overpowering and Duncan's head filled with lurid whispers he almost understood. There was a note there though, that made him pause. Getting closer he would be able to tell how many Spawn there were and of what kind, but not to pin-point their position. "I need you to scout." he said quietly to Josian who nodded and without a word moved down the tunnel; Duncan and Riordan followed, ready to cover his retreat. Sneaking up on Spawn was futile but the Taint of a lone scout might be overlooked.

Peering into a darkness that was only slightly eased by the shielded lantern in his hand, Duncan reached out with his Taint again. Riordan's presence next to him was a beacon; some distance behind them he felt the others. The thick silence all around him seemed filled with their faint clinking of chain mail and scraping of metal against metal. He even thought he could hear Roland's heavy breathing in that helmet of his. All of it served as a reminder of why the more heavily armed Warden's weren't the ones to cover the scouts. Duncan suddenly realised what felt odd and raised a hand to halt them all. The simmering tension in his stomach began to boil.

"Emissaries, two of them!" he whispered to Riordan just before he felt a surge of magic like a tingle across his skin. He began to run towards where he'd last seen Josian as another wave rolled over him. The very rock surrounding them shook and for a trembling moment the world held its breath. Sound came back in a roar that made Duncan's head feel as if it would split open before it mercifully and abruptly ended. An unseen force knocked him back. Boulders tore themselves free of the tunnel walls as dust filled the air. It should have been deafening but he heard nothing. The tunnel was quaking and in the back of his mind was the fear and confusion of the others. Having dropped the lantern he could see nothing in the choking dust and he stumbled sideways as something hard crashed into his shoulder, nearly bringing him to his knees. Arms wrapped around him, yanked him backwards and he fell hard, half trapped beneath Riordan's body.

Duncan had no idea how long he lay there whilst the world collapsed around him. At some stage Amaury's mage light winked out and absolute darkness joined the stone dust. For a long time only silence rang in his ears. Then he heard coughing and reaching out with his Taint, he felt the others but Riordan's presence was weak. Fear jolted him into action. As he twisted to get up, the body next to him slid bonelessly aside. He kneeled with stone and grit pouring off him. '_No!'_ Cursing the darkness he fumbled over the body until he found a face. '_Maker, please no!'_"Riordan!" he croaked. It made him cough so hard it hurt and he swallowed more stone dust. His shaking fingers found something hot and slippery on the side of Riordan's face, panic swallowed him whole. "Amaury, light!" he called desperately.

Leaning down he rested his forehead against Riordan's as his fingers sought out his pulse. "Don't you dare..." His voice cracked but that could have been the stone dust. The beat was steady against his fingers and Riordan groaned, shifting slightly. Relief washed through Duncan and biting back a sob he straightened. Pale green light suddenly filled the tunnel. Looking down he could see Riordan blink before rolling over, coughing violently. Just a scalp wound. As he rested his hand on his friend's heaving shoulder, Duncan could just make out the others, like indistinct shadows in the settling dust. 'Josian.' The thought sank through him like a stone, followed by sickening guilt. Riordan was sitting up now and as if reading Duncan's mind he rasped, "Can you feel Josian?" Duncan could, just. Riordan looked like a grey ghost beneath the dust, except for the blood. Reaching out to touch him Duncan thought better of it. "You OK?" Riordan grimaced but began to get up.

"I'm fine." Helping him, Duncan noted that rubble partially filled the tunnel and blocked one end, the end where Josian last had been seen. He swallowed another wave of guilt. Turning back to Riordan he said,

"Check on Josian, I can barely feel him at all. I'll see to the others and get Amaury."

In the mage light they all looked like moving statues as they surveyed the damage. One of the rookies, Jarin Duncan remembered, was only now waking and was being helped by his friend, another new Warden. Duncan sent a silent prayer to the Maker that Riordan had escaped so lightly and immediately chastised himself for letting personal become so important. His heart sank as he saw Amaury kneeling by Guilbert, who was leaning back against a boulder, rivulets of sweat making black tracks in the dirt on his face as the mage was probing his twisted leg. Vittorio had the blank look of a man trying to fight extreme pain and his shield arm hung useless as Roland tried to remove some of his armour. Joining Amaury, Duncan said, "I'll need you up ahead as soon as you can make it." With that he squeezed Guilbert's shoulder and left.

As he approached the mound of stones that blocked the tunnel he could just make out Riordan and a figure on the ground. As soon as he saw the rigid set to Riordan's shoulders, Duncan knew. Replacing the other man he took Josian's hand and tried not to stare at where the elf's body disappeared underneath the rocks. Amaury could work miracles but there wouldn't be much left to heal of Josian's lower half. Nor would they be able to shift the massive boulders that had him trapped. As the Elf opened his mouth to speak, pain twisted his dirty face. Nevertheless Duncan managed to smile. "Don't waste your strength." Josian produced a weak smile in return. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he rasped,

"It's been a good run ...better than I imagined ...the Alienage." More guilt assaulted Duncan, he had never even tried to understand Josian. The man had just been there, at times handy, but mostly unnoticed, or annoying. Amaury joined them looking harried, took one look at his Brother and gave a tiny shake of his head.

"It's too late." Josian gasped and more blood flowed from his mouth as the breath rattled in his chest. He pinned Duncan down with his gaze. "Do it." He whispered.

It took little effort to slip the dagger into his heart, it should have been harder. Josian's eyes held Duncan's briefly before life faded from them. "Maker Guide your path." Duncan closed them. "I'm sorry." Josian had been right, their group had always been lucky, until Duncan took command. He sat there frozen, staring down at the remains of his Brother until a hand landed on his shoulder.

"We need to get out before they block our retreat." Riordan's voice was low and gruff. With a huge effort Duncan clamped down on the thoughts that threatened to undo him and stood. Riordan was right, he'd let Josian down, he wasn't going to fail the others.

Amaury downed lyrium potion after lyrium potion to maintain the strength needed for healing the injured enough to travel and despite his concern, Duncan let him. By the time the poor mage was done, he could barely stand and was incoherent from the poison that fuelled his magic. Roland almost carried him as they moved out, this time with Duncan on point.

The Spawn was moving, he could feel them, no doubt hoping to finish what their trap had begun. The Taint was strongest behind the Wardens and back the way they had come, but there were several side passages and gritting his teeth, Duncan urged the others on, they needed to get there before the Spawn cut them off. Sweat and dust stung his eyes and he strained to pick up whatever he could with his Taint. That and the instincts that had seen him safely around the back streets of Val Royeaux, guided him now along unknown roads that seemed endless. The others exhaustion and pain trembled through the Taint and still he pushed, cajoled and ordered. When he finally felt the first sudden touch of air, not dank and smelling of stone but fresh, it was almost shocking. He stopped them then and moved carefully forward until all he felt was the breeze carrying with it a smell of wet earth and leaves. They were out.

-ooo-

"To Josian!" The toast was subdued. What was left of the group was gathered in the mess, which only reminded them of the one that was missing. 'Do not disappoint me.' Mathilde had said when she gave Duncan this mission. She never added the words 'again', but he knew they were there. He had expected just that, disappointment, when he reported to her, but to his surprise she had calmly received his words and expressed her sorrow over another Brother lost. He stared into his mug and wished Roland hadn't dragged him here.

"You remember when we made that bet with the Guards and Josian fired an arrow, right in the line of the sun? Two crows!" Roland said quietly. "Damnest shot I ever saw."

"Aye." Riordan replied while the rest nodded in silence. "He saved all our lives one time or another."

"We were always too lucky, had to run out sometimes." Vittorio grunted.

Amaury held out his hand. "I saved Josian's pendant." Duncan stared at it, the familiar twisted leather cord and the little vial, just like all the others, his too. It was a symbol of everything they shared; Josian too and still Duncan had allowed his personal concerns to distract him as Josian's life leaked out of him not fifty paces away. Duncan was no leader, never had been, never would be and the price of that discovery had been too great.

"You starting a collection? Here, have mine too!" He yanked the pendant off so hard the cord snapped and tossed it on the table. Everyone stared in chocked silence at him.

"Are you crazy? Don't tempt fate like that." Roland grabbed Duncan's wrist. He wrenched loose and stalked off, leaving them looking at each other in confusion.

-ooo-

He didn't turn when the door opened. He knew who they would ask, what he hadn't been so certain about was if the man would oblige. "They sent you of course." he snapped.

"They did, but I would have come anyway."

Duncan fully expected Riordan to go to the chest where he kept his hair-of-the-dog. Instead he approached to stand next to the bed, "You're a talker so talk to me."

Duncan sat up. "It was my fault." he said flatly. It made his throat hurt.

"How so? We were a number of others there as well."

"You heard them, 'We were always lucky' - until I took command. Now Josian is dead. Who would follow me after this?" Despair threatened to choke him.

"I would!" Duncan felt his hands gripped and his gaze was held by uncompromising grey eyes as Riordan crouched before him. "I would," Riordan repeated softly, "and so will all the others. You didn't see their faces, but I did. It was nothing short of a miracle you got us out. Get a grip man! Once you've stopped moping you'll recognise it yourself. There will always be deaths, but you kept it to a minimum. Not I, not Roland -_you_!"

Duncan breathed out; some part of him knew Riordan was right; the bugger was blunt, and no flatterer, not by a long shot. To his embarrassment he felt tears burning his eyes, angrily he tried to blink them away and watched in surprise as Riordan kneeled and, slowly and carefully, in the manner of a man to whom this was unfamiliar ground pulled him close. As Duncan felt his forehead connect with his friend's shoulder, he let go of all restraint, allowing the tears to flow while Riordan stroked his back, awkwardly at first, then with more confidence. When Duncan finally found himself drained, he rested a few breaths, drawing strength from the solid warmth that penetrated the soggy tunic. With regret he felt Riordan's hands let go, only to return to fasten something around his neck. Withdrawing, he looked down at the pendant resting once more against the hollow of his throat. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his nose on his sleeve. "So at least I'll have you then." Riordan regarded him intently before answering.

"I'll follow you down a Dragon's throat and out its arse, you know that! But then again, I..." Voices in the corridor seemed to interrupt; a wry smile stretched his mouth. "...then again I'm the suicidal one. Riordan drew his dagger and cut a lock of Duncan's hair, then one of his own. He twined them together as he stood, before throwing them into the fire. There was a sudden flare of light, then the acrid smell of burning hair.

"One day we will join you." Riordan murmured.

Duncan watched him staring into the fire. Crowded by emotions; guilt, gratitude, uncertainty, he rose like a sleepwalker to stand behind him. There was a nasty bruise on Riordan's temple. Unable to stop himself, Duncan reached out, lightly brushing his fingers over it and down the cheek, feeling the warmth of Riordan's skin and the bristles of the stubble. There was so much he wanted to say; how afraid he'd been, how glad he was Riordan was here now, how ashamed he was of this weakness at the same time. In the end, all that came out was, "You really scared the shit out of me."

"I get knocked out on a regular basis, you know that." Riordan neither avoided nor acknowledged Duncan's touch so what could he say? _'I hate every damned time I see you go down and dread the day you don't get up.'_No, definitely not.

"I know." Duncan sank his face in the other man's hair. It smelt of some kind of antiseptic herbs. "Still," he embraced Riordan from behind, "you know what I'm talking about." Only then did he realise how tense Riordan had become.

"I know that I am much too late for my sentry duty."

Duncan backed away, swallowing his disappointment. One day he might understand or perhaps one day Riordan might even trust him enough to explain, but not today. "Of course."

"Lionel is my partner, nothing makes him happier than to rat someone out. I'm trying to walk the line now. For both of us." The word 'stay' was so close to passing Duncan's lips he could feel it straining against his teeth, yet he said nothing as he watched the man walk out the door.

-ooo-

Riordan jogged towards the gatehouse, furiously tugging on the straps of his armour.

"You're late." Lionel scowled at him.

"I'm always late, didn't they tell you?" Riordan shrugged as he adjusted his weapons harness.

The scowl became puzzled. "No."

"They should have. Did they at least mention what I did to the last guy who had an issue with that?"

"Er, no." Lionel seemed to finally settle for 'worried'.

Riordan frowned. "That's too bad; I would hate to do the same thing to you, only because you didn't receive the correct information."

"I couldn't find...I mean no, I haven't...naturally."

"Great! My fist wasn't back to normal for weeks. "He thumped Lionel on the back, just a tad too hard. "Why don't we just settle down and relax then, like proper guards." Riordan got a great deal of satisfaction watching the other man shrink away. It was so much easier being the asshole.

Finding a spot with decent light, he pulled Duncan's amulet from his pouch. Inspecting it he groaned inwardly. Repairing that would take the whole night. He pulled off the leather thong that kept his hair out of his face. At least it would be spent on something worth doing for bloody once. Riordan held the vial to the light. The memory of Duncan's hands on his face and neck still sent unwelcome signals through his body. Well, thank the Maker for small blessings; a glance at Lionel's sour face would swiftly take care of that.


	42. The chicken

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Jaden, Fenzev and Shakespira, as always, we love you. This chapter came not without pain...

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><p><strong>The Chicken<strong>

"Are you sober? That hurts even worse than usual!" Riordan snapped. This was technically not true, but he was in a bad mood having been forced to spar against mages, which was more like target practice - for the mages. He could swear the master-at-arms had it in for him. He felt Amaury pause briefly before continuing the painful probing of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry; I'm doing my best, honestly. Please let me finish."

"Make it quick then." Riordan growled. He was already regretting letting the mage try out this new idea of transforming a scar into a tattoo on him. On top of suffering the last vestiges of stunning spells, he was now sweating with pain. Taking another sip from the dipper he glanced across the courtyard. Duncan had been closeted most of the day with the commander. Even if Riordan was pretty sure it had nothing to do with him this time, he couldn't help wondering if it wasn't a bad sign. Since the time they lost Josian, Duncan had led several very successful missions, Riordan had been along on a few and there had been no sign of the self-doubt he had seen in the other man's eyes that night. Maybe he had done something right after all. "Ouch, that's it! We're done!" He began to get up.

"Just the final touches!" Amaury pleaded.

"Fine, just get on with it!" With a sigh he sank back as he saw Roland sauntering over, dripping water. Greeting the other man with a pained grin he said, "Nice job with the rookies there. They will no doubt appreciate it, once they wake up."

"Bah, better learn from me than Spawn." Roland shrugged and moved around to look at Riordan's back. "What's that supposed to be?"

"Why, a Gryphon!" Dismayed, Riordan could hear a slight quiver in Amaury's voice.

"What is that then?" Roland asked slowly, prodding the tender skin.

"The tail of course!" The Mage stepped aside. "All done! Thank you Riordan. Got to run, they're calling for me." He flashed the men a nervous grin. "Guess Roland's victims need a spot of healing."

Roland sat down with a force that, judging by the desperate creaking, stretched the capacity of the bench to its limits. It took a few heartbeats before he began to chuckle.

Riordan was almost too tired to ask, but he had to. "So what's wrong with it?"

"Frankly, your proud Gryphon looks like a fat chicken shitting itself." The whole man shook with laughter now.

"Great, he's so dead!" Riordan rose to follow Amaury's swiftly disappearing back.

"You might want to wear this!" Roland was wiping tears from his eyes as he tossed Riordan's shirt after him. "Like, the rest of your life!"

-ooo-

Riordan frowned at the state of his sword. From the look of it he had been hitting rocks more often than flesh. What he would normally have done, was hand the weapon in to the quartermaster's and withdraw a new one, but after Duncan had made that little speech about his father teaching him to care for one's own weapon, it had become impossible. He was touched that Duncan would share something like that, and tried to find something of his own to offer in return, but 'My father used to smile and toss me a silver after beating my mother' would probably spoil the mood. The first time he had offered the coin to his mother, his ear had been ringing for days from the slap. After that, he kept them to himself. Resolutely he shoved the memories aside, this was one of those warm, perfect evenings, and it should be savoured. He was also grateful that Roland had caught him before he found Sorry. Mages, as the warrior had pointed out to him, sadly did not grow on trees and stringing Sorry up by his balls would make them short a healer.

He gave up on the sword and pulled out the little hunting dagger instead, the one that had belonged to his eldest brother, the same one that had cut his throat. Riordan didn't much care about possessions, this was the exception. As he smeared a thin coating of oil on the blade he wondered if it wasn't time to let it go, along with the rest of his past. Duncan's voice jolted him out of his reverie.

"I'm being sent to Ferelden again."

"Great, haven't been soaked by a good rain in ages!" There was something in Duncan's voice that alerted him; the long silence confirmed something was wrong. "Don't say Mathilde still has it in for me?" His friend could easily have lied then, but that was not the way he worked.

"No. I just thought it might be better to spend some time apart, for both of us."

Riordan slowly let his hands drop; he had expected it yes, though perhaps not so soon. "As you wish." He said calmly.

"Now that you are firmly re-established here, you hardly need my support any more. You've even been commended a few times." He could feel more than see Duncan trying to catch his eyes. He refused that silent plea; he couldn't handle it, not now. Riordan had never been more grateful for that cloak of detachment he could slip on like a second skin.

"I thought you would be relieved, truly." Duncan continued quietly.

"And why is that?" Riordan held the blade to the light, examining it for flaws.

"Maybe we...I...got too close, too fast, or it was wrong of me from the beginning. I don't know. Anyway, I know it bothers you." Now Riordan could hear the pain in the other man's voice for the first time. Typical Duncan, always blaming himself first.

"That is a flaw in me, not you. Anyway I'll be here when you return, and I won't even break your face when you do."

"You've forgotten to block, you're leaking." he heard Duncan murmur as a hand grabbed his neck, pulling their heads together, automatically he mimicked the gesture.

"I feel like I can't draw another breath unless you tell me to." Riordan whispered before hurriedly adding. "I know I will, but I see no point in it." He winced. How did this man manage to back him into corners where vomiting thoughts he would rather have kept to himself, was the only option?

"I never knew." Duncan's voice was rough.

"Pay no attention to it. You should always follow you own mind, since you've got one."

"Well, I am not sure anyone but you can tell an ordinary wolf from a werewolf." There was a strained lightness in Duncan's voice.

"That's true, Roland perhaps." Riordan forced himself to relax, it was almost painful.

"Yeah, but he won't eat my cooking without complaints."

"Neither will I."

Now the amusement sounded genuine. "No, but you can cook, Roland can't. Also, he hates to travel." Duncan's hand tugged lightly at his ear. "Hm, Guilbert on the other hand is a competent and well-mannered fellow, no complaining there."

"A good choice I guess." There was a sight pause.

"But he's not you." There was a new pause as Duncan's fingers returned to the back of Riordan's neck and gave it a squeeze. "Will you please come?"

"Of course." Riordan carefully raised his free hand to touch Duncan's jaw, cupping it tentatively, as the remaining tension poured out of him.

Nearby somebody shouted, "For Fuck's sake, get a room!"

-ooo-

"Morning, you ready?" Duncan leaned in the doorway with the missives and the second important part of their mission, a wooden box, under his arm. The almost barren neatness of Riordan's room was a bit of a shock after the chaos of his own. Even now in the midst of packing, there was not an item out of place; not that there were much to BE out of place. Riordan was crouching by the storage chest.

"In a moment. Help yourself to that herbal concoction before I throw it out. It's disgusting." Duncan wandered over to the table. Putting his burden down, he peered into the pot that sat there. The smell was familiar, making him grin.

"You're fucking that elven maid, aren't you?"

"From time to time, same as you I guess. Must have disappointed her last night though; that stuff is supposed to be 'invigorating'."

Duncan snorted. "I promise I won't tell you what's in it. Anyway, not my type, she's cross-eyed."

"Do I look her in the eyes? Really Duncan, you sound like a farmer sometimes. It's not a curse or anything.

"Guess not." Duncan sat down on the bed watching his friend finish his packing. He never ceased to be impressed at the quiet economy with which Riordan did it, never missing an item either, damn him.

The other man stripped off his tunic, tossing it on the bed. Duncan was glad to notice that he was looking much healthier than when they met in the Roads. Though 'healthy' wasn't exactly at the top of his mind as he watched him gather the last items on the floor; somehow they all fit into the pack perfectly. There was no sign of the fear and desperation he'd felt from Riordan yesterday. He hated how he inadvertently had hurt him; it would never happen again. Instead he thought wistfully of that moment of unguarded affection that had followed. After tightening the straps, Riordan turned, giving Duncan a brilliant smile.

"Done! So what's the plan for Ferelden?"

Duncan shrugged. The usual stuff, missives. But I've been given the go ahead to look for recruits in Orzammar and, here's something that'll make you laugh, we're bringing Gilow's ashes back to his family." He indicated the box he'd left on the table.

"Really, I wonder who that actually IS?"

"Could be anyone, or just the leavings from Mathilde's hearth."

Riordan opened the lid and stirred the contents with his finger. "She never suspected?"

"Why would she? The back streets of Montsimmard are dangerous to the unwary."

"There's a set of teeth here." Riordan wiped his hand on his trousers.

"Someone is getting a proper funeral. Who, is no concern of ours." Duncan said firmly.

Closing the lid, Riordan asked, "Is it important to you? Getting a proper funeral I mean."

"Not really. I wouldn't like to rot in a ditch somewhere, but I guess we're more likely to go down in the Roads. You?"

Riordan shrugged reaching for a fresh tunic. "Never gave it much thought, don't think it would matter much to me," he hesitated, "if you were gone." He pulled the garment over his head. "You ready?"

"Yes, no!" Duncan's thoughts stumbled over what Riordan had just said. Why did the man keep tripping him up like that? And now, what could Duncan possibly say...? "Wait! Is that a tattoo? Looks like a..."

"I fucking know already!" Riordan's eyes narrowed. "Let's have a look at the gear, I want so see the tent." He headed for the door.

"Why? I inspected it myself."

"My point exactly."


	43. The End part 5

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Shakespira and FenZev, ah you already know. ;) Thanks also to all who read!

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><p><strong>The End part 5<strong>

Riordan finished the remainder of his drink. If there had ever been a night when he needed to be thoroughly sloshed, it was this one. Or even better, he should leave while he could. His brain kept screaming at his body to get going while something deep inside his soul kept him rooted right here. He tilted his head back. So many years he had told himself that some things could not be forgotten, convinced himself that he was right. It was all falling apart. There was a crack in the ceiling. As was his habit when distressed, he focused on an irreverent detail like that and traced it with his eyes.

'_Reining in his horse, he sees Duncan. Chaotic thoughts temporarily stumbles at the sight of the large beard that covers the man's jaw; no longer neat and close cropped. Camouflage, Riordan knows immediately. It's difficult to read a man whose face is hidden. Smiling, the teeth white against the brown skin, Duncan moves with the same easy grace as always. He's filled out, not with fat but in the natural way of years. There was always a sort of quiet dignity and command surrounding him, although initially it was easy to overlook. Now it's there for all to see. Wearing scuffed leather armour, it looks like he's been sparring;__there is a sheen of sweat on what can be seen of his face. He extends his hand to each of them. Riordan clasps his wrist with a short nod, like the others. Something dangerous flickers behind Duncan's eyes, then it's gone.'_

Riordan's outburst earlier had been a reflex more than anything else. A lifetime dodging deep feelings had not been in vain. He had seen the hurt and the naked heart, they were both bleeding inside, and for what? Shadows of things long gone. It made him tired more than anything else. 'I used to love you' Duncan had thrown in his face like a dirty rag. There had been a time, both of them knew bloody well, when in every word or gesture there had been salvation or damnation. They had been young then and in some ways naive.

Duncan's voice called him from his reverie; it was far from the first time. "Yes?" The man prompted. Surprised, Riordan realised the man was standing right there with the bottle raised, ready to refill his glass. He straightened and rubbed his face.

"I'm sorry. I truly am. I had no right."

With a faint smile, slightly frayed, Duncan shook his head and poured. "It's fine, I'm sorry too."

"Just tired that's all." Riordan was amazed at how high the two of them were able to stack lies without causing them to topple. As Duncan topped up his own glass, Riordan struggled to find something to say that would not shatter the fragile peace. "It's hard to imagine now that there was a time when we could laugh together at the most stupid things." In hindsight it was perhaps NOT the most diplomatic thing to say, but then again, Duncan had always been the diplomat.

"I remember, I thought you had forgotten."

"I admit I've tried to, but no," Riordan closed his eyes, "I haven't." He knew he had to say it now or the chance would be lost. "Believe it or not, but I didn't come here to argue with you."

There was a snort. A small sound and so familiar it hurt. "You could have fooled me." The forced lightness in the tone gave Riordan the courage to look Duncan straight in the eyes. They were as he remembered, true.

"I came to make peace between us and I'm doing a shitty job."

"It was never one of your strong points." Now there was a hint of a wry smile, partially hidden by Duncan's beard.

"Nevertheless."

"After all this time, why?"

Despite what instincts told him, Riordan choose to answer with honesty. "Because of Roland. I'm good at forgetting, not at forgiving."

"It's not the dreams is it?" Duncan asked, his voice not much above a whisper.

Riordan let his eyes fall shut again. "No, and don't be afraid; I won't hold you to your promise." The sharp sting against his cheek jolted his eyes wide open. "What the...!"

"Don't EVER think I give my promises lightly!" Eyes now resembling a bird of prey's, nailed him to the chair. Riordan's own were almost watering from the pain of the slap. He had forgotten this side of Duncan. "I could have made you eat your teeth and it would have been sweet compared to what you just said. If you don't want me there, you SAY so, loud and clear!" the other man finished through clenched teeth.

"I don't want you there," Riordan's own anger was kindling anew, "never wanted you there!"

"Another big fat lie!" Not a bird of prey, a Gryphon; beak and claws digging into him.

"No! I wanted to go when you went, not the other way around." Riordan felt Duncan slowly release his grip.

"You are NOT allowed. There is a Blight coming, I know it."

"If you say so." With an effort Riordan recaptured his detachment. He had come to lay shadows to rest, not stir them up.

"I'm sorry." Duncan let go. As if slightly embarrassed at his outburst and determined to cover it up, he straightened Riordan's tunic. "You're giving in, just like that? We could argue over this for days!"

Riordan felt a smile tug at his mouth. "And you would always win, so what's the point?"

The other man made some minor adjustments, for a heartbeat Riordan got the impression he didn't want to lose the physical contact. "Perhaps the point is that I loved the argument. You had some very heretical ideas."

"I did? Pity I don't remember them."

Duncan moved away. "I do, I remember almost everything."

"Sounds more like a curse to me." Riordan drained his glass.

"Sometimes it is."

Desperate to move the discussion away from these dangerous topics, Riordan snatched up another one, "Amaury is having the dreams, or so he says." He held out his glass for a refill, at least some things were the same.

"Truly? Poor Amaury."

"Mm, I offered to go with him when he can't stand it anymore but the Roads are not his thing. He has this crazy idea of consuming himself with a fireball. I told him it will hurt like fuck, but would he listen?"

"He may be gone by now." All Riordan could see on Duncan's face was genuine sadness and regret. For the first time since THAT day, he wondered what Duncan had left behind when he went to Ferelden, apart from the obvious.

"Come on. What's the chance of him succeeding with something like that? No doubt I will have to finish him off, and no, that's not something I'm looking forward to. Anyway, it might as well be the side-effects of Smoke. He's taken a liking to it of late."

"And you?"

Riordan shook his head. "Not my thing, makes me cry sometimes. Waking up having Amaury drying my face with little flames while murmuring we should hide beneath the skirts of the Tranquil, did nothing to change my mind." In the corner of his eye he saw Duncan turning his glass over in his hands. They were as he remembered, long fingered and strong, a bit more veined perhaps.

Riordan's attention was called back when the other man spoke again. "I recently heard this strange story of a cat warning an entire village of approaching Darkspawn."

"Come on! Truly you don't think... That was just something I made up."

Now Duncan's smile was warm. "I don't know, perhaps the Maker heard you that day."

"Or the bloody cat did, far more likely in my opinion." Riordan could feel an answering reluctant smile at the corner of his mouth. "That was one smart cat." He caught the glitter in Duncan's eyes.

"That tom was bloody unique!"

Riordan hated himself for wanting to venture onto this ground he had not trodden for so long, but it was like picking at a scab, irresistible. Yet the words didn't quite want to come. He was still struggling when Duncan met his gaze.

"I know. We should talk about her." He said quietly.


	44. The virtue

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Thanks to all who read and to Fenzev and Jaden (your words are not forgotten...;)

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><p><strong>The Virtue<strong>

"Do you trust me?" Duncan nodded and waded out in the dark water, a cool silken contrast to the heat of the sun, until he finally was able to grab Riordan's outstretched hand. "Now that wasn't so hard was it?" The man smiled.

Duncan smiled back "No." The sun wasn't the only thing warming him as he pulled himself closer. Water drops were clinging to Riordan's lashes, glittering in the light. Leaning forward, Duncan kissed them away, then the side of the man's long nose, that showed signs of having been broken more than once. Without it, Riordan would almost have been too perfect. Stopping there, content with keeping their faces close, mouths almost touching, he left it to Riordan to decide if they should. Skidding on the slippery rocks, enough to bring their bodies together, he couldn't help smiling when he felt he wasn't the only one who was hard. Riordan groaned and Duncan's smile widened as the other man sought his mouth.

Suddenly they were sinking beneath the water. Duncan floundered, then it came to him; _'Breathe'_ he sent, giving his breath to Riordan. The receding surface was a minor problem. All that mattered was the rough hands pressing their bodies closer and hungry mouth flooding him with desire. '_Follow__._'Riordan sent, finally breaking off the kiss which by now was tingling with tainted blood. He slipped out of Duncan's grip and shot towards the light. Only now did Duncan notice that the other man had the tail of a fish. Looking down he saw he had one too. Launching himself after Riordan, he broke the surface in time to see him rise in a glittering arch. Two quarrels struck the man in the stomach and gracelessly he fell back.

Duncan woke with a start, the pounding of his heart warring with the throbbing in his groin. Thank bloody fucking Andraste, just a dream! An arm was draped across his chest and Riordan's face was close enough for him to feel each breath against his shoulder. Outside the wildlife had sprung to life with the rising sun. There was a slightly damp chill to the morning still, but it held a promise of another hot day. Smiling he turned around which made the other man roll over on his back muttering something that sounded like 'sod off'. Duncan's smile widened, Riordan had never been one to appreciate early mornings.

Rising on his elbow, he regarded his companion. What was it about the man that had turned feelings of hostility and disgust into the exact opposite? Was it the fact that Riordan had a natural sensuality, much the same as Vittorio? Not that Duncan would point that out, never, ever. But whereas Vittorio was aware, Riordan was oblivious. The Antivan might strike one studied pose after another, all equally stunning, which caused much admiration, whilst Riordan could glance once from underneath a curtain of unkempt hair, as if sharing a secret joke, and Duncan's heart would nearly stop.

To Duncan it was in everything Riordan did, such as testing the edge of his sword with his thumb, smiling when it drew blood. He always smeared some on the surface before sucking away the rest. It was bad luck to have a weapon out and put it back un-blooded he had confessed once, a bit embarrassed that Duncan had noticed. That was another thing about Riordan, he did NOT like to be observed. He tolerated it from Duncan, barely. These moments, with Riordan unguarded, were a treasured source of guilty pleasure.

Even now, in sleep, with one arm flung above his head, that sensuality was there, or at least to Duncan it was, but then he was not an impartial observer._ 'Crack his head against a wall a few times.'_ Roland had said._ 'That's not the way it works,'_ Duncan had answered,_ 'that's just not the way it works.'_ He didn't know if the other man would ever choose to give him that last piece of himself, but if so, it would be on Riordan's terms and freely. He was not entirely sure what Riordan was afraid of, but whatever it was, it ran deep and there was always the fear that any shift in the balance might blow up in Duncan's face. He could wait, he had to.

The tent was getting hotter by the moment. He knew he ought to wake Riordan to get them going. With a bit of luck they would reach Jader by this afternoon. However, that was what he should do, not what he wanted. What he wanted was to place his hand on the dark strip of hair running down from the navel of his companion and disappearing beneath the blanket. He imagined it would feel soft to the touch. But that would be a breach of the often muddled constraints Riordan had placed on them, so he didn't. Instead he reached out to shake the other man's shoulder. "It's time, I'll start breakfast."

"Right behind you." Riordan mumbled drawing the blanket over his head.

"Right!" Duncan chuckled. This morning nothing could irritate him, but Riordan could bloody well ready the horses later. He tossed his own blanket on top of the other; that would sweat him out if nothing else. As for himself, he would have a wash or whatever was necessary, he hoped the water was really cold.

-ooo-

While Duncan was haggling with the merchant, Riordan combined the tasks of guarding their packs and horses with the opportunity to get some splinters out of his palm. Maker's Balls, if people insisted on building rickety wooden stairs in a tavern, the least you could expect was that they would have gotten worn smooth by drunkards like him, repeatedly trying to get up, or down, although down tended to be a bit faster. Duncan had been no use last night since he had been even worse off. "There, got you!" He set the poignard aside, grabbed the offending splinter with his teeth and spat it on the ground. He flexed his fingers carefully and with a satisfied grunt concluded he got it all.

He glanced over at Duncan still arguing with the shady salesman who kept shooting nervous glances in Riordan's direction. Duncan was one of the best hagglers he'd ever seen but this merchant appeared to be a nuisance. As for himself, he had no patience and always got a bad deal, which left him wishing he had strangled the seller and simply robbed him instead. Next time the merchant looked his way he casually scratched his chin with the knife, the man quickly turned his attention back to Duncan and began speaking rapidly. Riordan had been this way on many occasions when serving in Jader. During at least one of them, he had managed to make an impression that would serve them well now it seemed. Duncan shot Riordan a raised eyebrow and grinned when he shrugged innocently. Riordan smiled to himself as he inserted the poignard along the next splinter. He was so absorbed by the task he started badly when a female voice suddenly spoke next to him.

"You're a Grey Warden aren't you?"

"Blight!" Riordan shook his hand, carefully avoiding looking at it. "Haven't your parents taught you not to creep up on someone holding a knife?"

"Not when it's pointed at themselves, no." The woman sounded amused.

"Be smart around me once more and that could easily change, so fuck off!" Still annoyed that the stranger had managed to startle him, Riordan gave her a more thorough look as he pressed his bleeding hand against his thigh. She was wearing hunting leathers of an inexpensive but serviceable kind and had a bow that had seen some use strapped to her back. She didn't comment on his rudeness but neither did she back off. As if the woman had read his mind she smiled slowly.

"Am I bothering you?"

"Apart from making me cut myself worse than I intended to, no. However that doesn't make me feel chatty, so why don't you take my advice and get lost." he growled.

The woman persisted. "But you _are_ a Grey Warden, are you not?"

Riordan indicated the Gryphon insignia stamped onto the saddle, matching the one on his tabard. "My, you're a clever one."

"Ill-mannered as you are, could you at least tell me how I would go about it if I wanted to join your order."

Riordan returned his attention to his hand. "If you have anything at all between your ears, you don't."

As if having used up all her courage for today, the woman gave him a defeated look before turning and disappearing in the crowd. Riordan shook his head._ 'All kinds of lunatics are welcome.'_

"We'll we're done here. What was that about?" Duncan returned to stove away whatever odds and ends he had acquired.

"Oh that, nothing, just asking for directions." Riordan rubbed his hand one last time, still irritated with the remaining splinters and half blaming the unknown woman for them.

"Beautiful girl though."

"Well," Riordan swung onto his horse, "you know my views on that."

-ooo-

He saw the glittering of the pond through the trees and then he spotted Duncan. The man was crouching on a rock, staring into the water, seemingly deep in thought. His clothes were carelessly scattered behind him. Apparently he hadn't gotten very far with his wash. The evening sun was warm, taking some of the early summer chill out of the air and turning the insects that hovered over the dark pond surface into gold dust. It was peaceful and reminded Riordan of another evening by another lake a lifetime ago.

His steps faltered and stopped as he found himself transfixed by Duncan's back. His eyes traced the graceful curves of muscle under dark skin and the contrasting shapes of pale scars. The heat that bloomed in the pit of his stomach was familiar by now, but still unwelcome. Irritated he shoved it aside.

His attention was caught by new scars, or rather, very old ones that he hadn't noticed before. Perhaps it was the light or the fact he rarely allowed himself to truly SEE Duncan. Either way he now saw them, faded and thin, the wounds wouldn't have been deep to begin with. Even so there was no mistaking the way they crisscrossed Duncan's back. The punishment for young thieves caught red handed in Val Royeaux was harsh and meant as a deterrent. In Riordan's experience it just made for better thieves, you certainly wouldn't want to get caught twice. By all accounts Duncan had been a _very_ good thief.

"Wash getting along nicely I see." Riordan crouched next to him. "Dinner's ready soon; it's fish again." He eyed the hawk like profile. "What's the most disgusting thing you've ever eaten?" A smile curved Duncan's mouth.

"What, aside from my own cooking?" Riordan sat back and straightened his legs. Duncan could crouch for hours; it made Riordan's knees ache in sympathy. The stillness of the pond and the warmth of the sun seeped into him and he knew why Duncan had gotten stuck here.

"Aside from that yes."

"Slugs. Nothing you do to them can make them edible." Riordan laughed and Duncan continued, "You haven't done much hunting on this trip?" Looking across the water, Riordan realised, no he hadn't. Hunting had always been his escape. Now he'd suddenly found he didn't need it anymore.

"Nah, bad country. Is it deep?"

"If you're planning to shove me in, I just want to let you know I'm taking you with me." Duncan didn't look around.

"Now why would I go through that kind of trouble?" The look on Duncan's face as he saw his clothes flying over his head, was worth a dozen tankards. "Looks like three feet of mud by the shore." Riordan cautioned as he beat a quick retreat, just in case. The man was damnably fast.

-ooo-

"Don't tell me you're still mad and admit it, the fish was perfect. Better than any you can get in the Val." Riordan was returning after cleaning the dishes. He had been very careful to quest with the taint every time he bent over the water.

"Perhaps." Duncan was clearly not mollified. Riordan sat down on the log behind his back and pulled his head to the side. "There's still some mud in your ear." The other man let his head fall back against his chest. Riordan briefly shut his eyes, these moments when Duncan knew he could easily have wrung his neck and instead offered it to him, were sometimes hard to take. Slowly he brushed hair out of the way. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as you'll be tomorrow morning." Riordan followed the direction of Duncan's gaze to the top of the ash that was now sprouting some very familiar streamers. Riordan sighed in resignation. Really, he should have known.

"Ask me very nicely, and I might, just might, help you." The other man's mouth was stretched in a wide grin.

Riordan's eyes narrowed, measuring the height and distance between branches. Cold sweat was breaking out at the very thought. "Bloody fucking please!" he ground out.

"Now, that's the spirit!"


	45. The preference

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5. Thanks to all who read and major hugglings to Jaden and FenZev for taking the time to review as well. Let's get started already.

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><p><strong>The Preference<strong>

Jade took another draft from her mug, better make it last, she could afford precious else and if Audo ever found out she'd been skimming of his profits... She must have been crazy. It had been less than a dream, a rumour, that someone from Dust Town had done well topside. Someone she had known from childhood. He was clever, but no more so than herself. When she heard the news he was dead, it was too late. Really, she should have known better. She glanced back, the usual crowd, except for the two humans. Wardens probably, some topside variant of the Legion, precious else came here. Seeing them enter, her hopes had risen a bit. Sometimes Wardens were very liberal with their money, that was usually when they were going to their death, or Calling, as she had understood was the proper term. These guys now, certainly didn't look like they were dying though.

Both were good looking, in that lanky human way and young to booth, the fair skinned one looked vaguely familiar. They had plenty of glances from girls at the bar, that didn't charge for their time. Amateurs! Jade scoffed. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that these guys were interested in nothing except each other. She flashed them a smile, even knowing it would be wasted and resumed scanning the crowd. It was getting late and the noise of drunken revelling louder, meaning any potential customers would soon be too drunk to perform, which usually led to Jade sporting a black eye or two the next day.

Despite her better judgement she found herself draining the last of her drink before leaning across to the male who had been sitting next to her for some time now. "I'm Jade, would you like to have the time of your life?" she said hopelessly. There was a loud snore. "Guess not." As she pinched his glass, she felt a hand on her shoulder, nearly making her drop it. "Nug humping ancestors! Don't..."

"You free?" Astounded she saw that it was one of the humans, the fair skinned one. Plastering a mischievous smile on her face, she quickly collected herself.

"I might be, if the price is right." She saw him turn with a broad smile to grandly indicate her bosom to the dark human, who laughed and shook his head.

"How much, for two?" She smelled alcohol on his breath but his eyes were sharp enough.

She purred, "Two? Oh, but you are such big impressive men..."

"Cut the crap, how much?" He spoke evenly without anger.

"One silver and a half."

"Wow, your rate has gone up!" Didn't she know it. She _had_seen this one before, with the Morholt crowd.

"Ah for you, one silver! That's including your friend of course." Desperate times...

The man raised an eyebrow. Gah, she was really pushing it but she needed that money. "Seventy five coppers." she said despondently.

"Done!" One moment please." he said before making his way back to his companion. He wasn't exactly unsteady on his feet but moved with the excessive caution of someone who'd had a few too many. They seemed to have a heated, if somewhat drunken, exchange. Jade kind of liked the way the man had said 'one moment please', very Diamond quarter posh. When he waved her over, she put on her best saucy smile. "Hi there, I'm Jade."

-ooo-

The Warden house was much less fancy than she'd expected for all it was in the Merchant quarters. The impression of spartan comfort was enforced by her discovery that there were no separate bed rooms here. The Wardens slept in a dormitory on pallets, not unlike her own. Fairskin produced a bottle of something that, when he poured it into three cups, looked to be good and strong. Meanwhile Jade slowly unlaced her bodice, pretending she had trouble from time to time to let her breasts press against the fabric. "I might need some help with these..." she indicated her bodice and fairskin laughed, prodding the other man.

"Fancy stuff is your territory."

"Sure you don't wanna go first? The dark skinned man spoke without taking his eyes of her chest. His voice was slightly slurred.

Fairskin followed the other man's gaze and snorted. "Be my guest. She's just your type, excellent with her mouth too, unless I got her muddled up with someone else." Grabbing the bottle, he flopped down on one of the pallets and took a swig, the cup apparently forgotten. Something unspoken passed between the men before darkskin kneeled before her. Drawing the laces out one by one, he did an astonishingly good job considering his level of sobriety, and he _did_like what he was freeing from captivity, no doubt about that.

'_Most men like to be treated like individuals, ask their name and that's how you will find out.'_That's what her mother had told her. So far she'd been spot on. "So I'm Jade...and you?" She purred and looked into the man's face from underneath lowered eyelashes.

"Duncan."

"Ah, a good name, a strong name for a strong man." She slid her hands around his neck undoing the knot that held his hair back. He did nothing to stop her, simply shook his head when the hair came loose. Jade glanced over Duncan's shoulder towards his companion. It would not do to make him feel left out. "A man like you must have a name just as strong."

Fairskin snorted. "Do we pay you to talk?" Ah, he was one of those. "Did you pay her to talk Duncan?"

"Not that I can remember." Duncan said absentmindedly while stroking her nipples though the thin fabric of her blouse. Obligingly she raised her arms; he was not slow in pulling it over her head. Cupping one of her heavy breasts, he caressed it. Against his dark hand, her skin looked almost translucent. She leant forward, pushing into his hand, at the same time reaching for the hem of his tunic. Impatiently he let her pull it off, his hands returning, a bit more eager now. "Mouth you said?" Duncan's voice was thoughtful now.

"Mm." Fairskin took another swig from the bottle. Jade opened her mouth to say something flirty to him but seeing the look on his face as he watched his friend, the words died on her tongue.

Letting his hands drop to her waist, Duncan made short work of her skirt. "Waste of a perfect view." He declared happily as it pooled around her feet. Stepping out of it, she began to help him with his trousers. She dared to sneak another look at fairskin but needn't have worried, he saw nothing but his companion and she almost pitied him. As she began to push Duncan's trousers down, he buried his face against her neck and murmured.

"Perhaps we should move to the bed." He didn't wait for an answer but managed to stagger upright. Fairskin laughed as they tumbled down next to him on the pallet.

"You're so bloody pissed, you won't even make it."

Propping himself up on his elbow Duncan grinned. "Is that a bet? Come on then! The winner pays the lady an extra silver." An extra silver! For something she had taken for granted from the beginning. Jade cooed invitingly and gave both men her most wicked smile. Sitting up Duncan twisted her around before pushing into her with the slightest stutter of breath. "The mouth is all yours." he suggested slyly to the other man.

Fairskin straightened and raised the bottle once more but apparently thought better of it. "You're very careless with your money tonight." he drawled, putting it aside to unlace his trousers.

"Let's see shall we, just don't forget, it's Vittorio sucking your dick!" Jade had no idea what that was about but Duncan laughed so hard she could feel it inside and Fairskin was still swearing when he gripped her head, none too gently, and she took him into her mouth.

-ooo-

She dressed slowly before stopping to look at the men sprawled on the pallet. Fairskin had clearly passed out, but Duncan was awake propped up on his elbow watching him, his expression slightly puzzled. As if suddenly remembering she was there, he began to untangle himself from the bed. "Hang on." He said quietly and fumbled for his purse as she hovered in the doorway. Jade could hardly believe her eyes when he handed her not one but two silvers. "I'd call it a draw wouldn't you?" His drunken cockiness gone, the smile was kind and slightly sad. "Besides, your pimp will check." He was bloody right about that.

She carefully distributed the coins about her person. If she could manage to sneak them past Aldo, this might just stave of disaster, at least for a while. She wanted to offer Duncan something in return. "You are far from the only two males needing a woman to pretend you're not doing each other you know."

The smile turned wry. "I bow to your expertise."

"Well, glad I could be of service, Should you ever pass by again..." She fell silent; she had no place here so she quietly left. Treading her way home, the image of Duncan gently drawing the blanket up over fairskin, almost made her feel good about herself. Not to mention the small fortune she had made. She stopped to touch the foot of one of the Paragon statues with a smile. Some Ancestor had surely heard her tonight.

-ooo-

When Riordan woke he wished he was dead. It wasn't so much the hangover as the memory of last night returning. Had he been kissing Duncan while the man was trying to fuck a Dwarf? Blight, he was so screwed! It was a miracle he still had all his teeth. If the man had had doubts about his sanity before, they were surely gone now.

"You awake?" Duncan's voice came from across the room; too low for Riordan to detect any emotion. He suppressed a groan of despair.

"Unfortunately." He wished there was some hole in the bedding he could crawl into; instead he put his arm over his eyes. "I acted up again. I'm so bloody, fucking sorry. It was just meant to be a bit of fun." That _was _what he had meant, wasn't it? Daring a cowardly peek at his friend from under the arm, he saw him approach.

Duncan sat down on the pallet. Smiling he reached out to thread his fingers through Riordan's hair. "We go back a long way, don't we?"

Riordan swallowed. "We do."

"Meaning I have years of experience. We were both rat arsed, so what we do now is get into our gear and carry on."

"Just like that?" To his surprise Riordan found that a thorn of disappointment was embedded in the immense relief he felt.

"Just like we always do." Duncan tossed him pieces of his armour. "Get ready, I'm going to collect the laundry." At the door he turned to add with a grin. "But I must admit, you're bloody hot when you're angry."

"I hope the fat witch smothers you!" Riordan growled.

"That one good with her mouth too?" Duncan ducked out the door just in time to avoid getting a vambrace in the face.


	46. The Topside

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Hugs to our precious sources of Writing mana. FenZev, Jaden and Shakespira

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><p><strong>The Topside<strong>

Entering Dust Town, Duncan shared a glance with his colleague before heading for one of the badly repaired buildings that stood as a reminder of that the place once had been a part of Orzammar. Shortly after their arrival in the city, he had wheedled information about when the next illegal Proving would be held, out of one of the locals. After this fit of indiscretion, the Duster had clammed up and told them to ask Rogek on the day, before slipping off to skulk in the shadows once more. The site of the Provings was constantly moved and being Warden's made sure they weren't attacked on sight, but other than that, it gained them little trust. Rogek was a merchant although his shop was unmarked. Duncan knew where to find it though; paying attention in Dust Town served a purpose other than simply keeping you alive.

Riordan gave a short nod as they approached the shop and took up position across the street, leaning nonchalantly against a ruined wall, preparing to play intimidating thug, should the need arise. Duncan glanced once towards him and saw that he was already spinning one of his more nasty looking blades. He suppressed a smile. "Oi, Duncan! No, not there, here!" Tensing he rested a hand on the hilt of the dagger in his belt as he peered into the shadows. A smaller shadow detached itself from them and became a dwarf.

"Jade?" Half her face was covered in dried blood and what could be seen of her skin was mottled in shades of purple and yellow. Her nose had been broken and both her eyes were swollen almost completely shut. She moved stiffly, obviously in some pain. Whoever she was, she had had a good work-over.

"Yes." Staring into her misshapen face he caught a glimpse of the vividly green eyes he recognised in the dwarven whore from last night. Now there was no cocky confidence there, no mischievousness. The look in her eyes was that of a trapped animal. "Help me please, I'll do anything –anything!" she whispered, her eyes darting as if she expected to be jumped any moment. Duncan stared at her. As Riordan had said once, the life of a whore was a dangerous one. Glancing around he saw him approach with a frown on his face but he wasn't the only one looking and Dust Town was a small place, news travelled fast, bad news even faster. Jade looked like very bad news. What the fuck did she expect him to do? Rile up half of Dust Town? Pick a fight with the Carta who owned her? All because he had tipped her well last night. Her problems were her own surely?

"You, Warden!" Three dwarves, all of them armed, strode towards them, shoving people out of the way. Beside Duncan, Riordan cursed under his breath. "That's Audo's property." Jade moaned "Nug crap!" and stumbled behind him.

"Is it now?" Duncan said calmly, as he frantically tried to think of a way out of this mess.

"Yeah and you would do well to just hand her over."

The street was suddenly completely empty, aside from three bristling dwarves, two Wardens and the whore. 'Like a bad joke,' Duncan thought bitterly. She wasn't his problem. Maker's balls, he just couldn't... "We would avoid a lot of trouble here if you just left this woman alone." he said.

"We piss on the Wardens. This is our place, our rules!" One of the dwarves spat as they stepped closer. Duncan imagined he could smell the rot on the speaker's breath. Knowing without even looking that Riordan was prepared, Duncan bent to grasp Jade's arm. "Life as a warden is short and harsh."

"Life as a whore with a price on her head is shorter, and harsher." Duncan looked into what he could see of her eyes; they met his with a fierce will to live. He nodded and straightened.

"This woman is a Warden recruit." As expected, there was laughter and outrage.

"How she's going to kill Darkspawn eh? Fuck 'em to death?"

'_Go'_ Duncan sent. In what seemed like one move, Riordan cut one dwarf across the face, downed another with the hilt of his knife and crushed the nose on the third one with his elbow. A nice touch, Duncan thought, no kills that might trigger a feud with the Carta. He hadn't moved at all, except to cross his arms over his chest as if confident one Warden was enough. "We can be versatile." He drawled before lifting his eyes to the crowd that had reappeared to gawk. Good entertainment was always welcome. "Anyone with the heart and will to fight Darkspawn is welcome among us. Remember that." He hoped that would repair some of the damage. "Are you ready recruit?"

The female staggered to her feet. "I am."

Duncan choose to ignore her turning to spit in the direction of her tormentors as he and Riordan almost carried her with them towards the tunnel that led out of Dust Town. "That was extremely stupid wasn't it?" he hissed to Riordan as they headed towards the light that heralded the Merchant's quarters.

"Oh yes. But I admit I love to play the thug." In the semi darkness he could see the white of Riordan's teeth as he grinned.

"That's because you're a natural." As they stepped out into the bustle of the Merchant's quarters, Duncan stopped. "What chances does she have?" He glanced towards Jade that huddled behind them, looking as far from the pretty and very attractive whore of yesterday as it was possible.

"Next to none. Riordan turned to look Duncan in the eye. "Peg her off on me. No one will raise an eyebrow if my first recruit is a whore."

"Blight!" Rubbing his face Duncan continued, "I'm not letting you take responsibility for this. Andraste's tits, Mathilde is never going to let me forget this one?"

"Ferelden is in desperate need you said. We have enough time to teach her to slay the one Spawn she needs. She's a Duster after all. After that, it's out of our hands."

"Why do I always feel uncomfortable when you make perfect sense?"

Riordan clapped him on the back. "Beats me." He turned to Jade. "Are you ready to face the topside Jewel?"

"Yes, oh yes!"

-ooo-

"Lie still or get out!" Ouch, Duncan was grumpy. The last two nights he and Riordan had had split watches. There was Darkspawn about, or so they said. Jade gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sticking her head out of the tent to sniff the air. It was full of strange, spicy smells and chilly. The breeze that constantly touched her with invisible fingers was unsettling. She would have liked to burrow under the blankets and attach herself to Duncan's warm body but her bladder had other ideas. Emerging from the tent, she spotted Riordan near the fire, holding what seemed like a mess of leather straps. Slipping in amongst the bushes, she cursed the wind, the trees that towered over her and the deep sucking void that was the sky above her. At least when it was dark, she could pretend it was a nice solid stone roof.

Apart from life, she had not known what to expect from these men. It had brought her close to tears when they stopped at the market outside the Orzammar gate to get clothing and other provisions, just for her! Both men had been kinder to her than she remembered anyone having been since her mother died. After that, she had spent days in complete misery, huddled against Duncan's back, the enormity of the topside world pressing her lower than the soles of her boots. She had even refused to ride on the animal that she was provided with, a pony it was called. She had this feeling that if she didn't hold on to the ground, or Duncan, she would simply take off into the sky. That pony looked so small and would probably fall away too. When she flatly refused to let go of Duncan to sleep in the small tent they had acquired for her, Riordan had simply shrugged and moved his gear. Lying awake she had spent most of the night listening to the strange sounds of the outside mingling with Duncan's slow breaths. At the end of that first week she had started to remember who she had been before and bit by bit her natural optimism bobbed to the surface. She wasn't the first Dwarf going topside, and if they could make it, so could she.

What bothered her was that she had no hold on her new companions and every day she feared they would tire of her and leave her to her fate. After all, what use was she to them? Starting to take careful note of them, she quickly realised one thing; there was no way she could insert herself here. There was a bond between the two that was almost mystical in its intensity. They were constantly seeking out each other's eyes and touching, shoulder, foot, elbow, although she suspected they weren't even aware of it. Watching them wrestle in one of those 'water-holes' called lakes, she didn't know if they realised it, but to her it sure was foreplay. There was no cause for complaint though. Closely after, had been the first time she'd managed to persuade Duncan to lay with her. It had taken some hard work and she had been forced to sit through a lengthy, very boring lecture on her status as a Grey Warden recruit until she effectively silenced him and he capitulated, taking her to the tent. To her surprise she had thoroughly enjoyed it and she made damn sure he did. If only she could get Riordan to tumble her too, she would feel a lot safer.

As she approached the fire Riordan looked up. "Hi, hungry? Take your pick." He indicated the pack next to him before continuing, "There's also some deer drying on those rocks if you have nimble fingers."

"Thank you." Jade quickly snatched up some of the meat. Deer was the horned beast; horse was the one they rode. As long as they were useful you didn't kill a horse for meat, even if she HAD heard Duncan mutter such things. Sometimes her head was spinning with all that was unfamiliar in this surface world. What she was most afraid of was trees, alive, yet not and HUGE. They seemed to be whispering amongst themselves. The sun had also been extremely discomforting. When she asked what kept it in place she got laughed at, but she could tell the men didn't know either, so HAH!

"Want some?" Riordan offered her a hipflask. She smelled it before drinking. Nice stuff, if a bit on the mild side. She saw the man raising an eyebrow at her, then shaking his head with a smile. He took a sizeable swallow himself before continuing with the leather things. Duncan was an incredibly attractive man with clever hands and silky skin and she could tell he usually called the shots. Riordan was more of a wild card. These two were all that stood between her and starvation and death by tree topside, she was taking no chances. She settled herself next to him, pretending to regard what he was doing while making certain her chest was brushing his arm. It never hurt to optimize. "What's that?"

"The bridle Duncan managed to snap this afternoon. The man can spend forever on his weapons, but things like this..."

"The horse was bad." Jade nodded sagely before prodding further. "Duncan is a good man."

"That he is and no doubt you are a fine woman." Riordan gave his work a final tug testing the strength before turning his eyes on her. "Duncan has had and will have many fine women. It has nothing to do with me, even if I thought so at one time. I'll have the bad women, suits me fine."

"The bad women, and Duncan."

"That's enough from you." He flicked her nose pretty hard. Still, he WAS smiling. Jade had discovered Riordan didn't mind if she was a bit cheeky.

Turning her eyes to the sky with all its strange dots, no, 'stars' was the correct name. The big light was the moon, like the Sun, but not the same. It still made her dizzy, looking up. She swallowed a wave of unease. "The moon is different tonight."

"Ah the moon is really an eye you see. Sometimes the lid is closed, then, slowly it opens until she can look down and see us. Haven't Duncan told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

"It recognises humans and elves, but not dwarves since you live underground. That's why surface dwarves keep indoors on such nights."

Jade frowned at the moon before looking over at Riordan. The unease was back. "And if they have no house?"

He leaned against the rock at his back and laced his hands together behind his head. "Better dig a deep hole. If she spots a dwarf, she sends a star from the sky and –BOOM! Death is quick, or so I've heard. Look!" Jade stared terrified at the sky where a cluster of small lights seemed to fall. "Too bad, guess there's less of you topside now." She realised Riordan was grinning and felt heat crawl up her cheeks.

"You're lying, you rotten son of a nug!" She punched him in the arm and he laughed. The warmth of the sound was unexpected and pleasant.

"It was worth a try. Fereldan Wardens might have had the biggest latrines, at least once a month ..."

"Duncan wants to leave me in Denerim." When all she got was an 'Mm' from Riordan, she added helpfully, "That's the biggest city of Ferelden."

"That's his decision," he turned that sharp gaze on her, "I don't question Duncan's decisions."

"Why?"

Riordan snorted and spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because Duncan is always right, that's why!"

Jade pouted although she was fairly certain it didn't work on Riordan. "But I don't want to stay in this DENERIM. You will be leaving for another place." She leaned more heavily against him and rested a hand on his thigh as she tilted her head back to see him better.

"Be smart. There you'll be the only Female Warden. You'll be dining with the Prince in no time."

"Me? Dine with a Prince?" Now THAT was interesting but not enough to distract her from her other mission, so she slid her hand further up.

Seemingly unfazed, Riordan grinned down at her. "The Prince is obsessed with the Wardens. Flash that chest a bit more and if rumours are true, you'll have dessert too, and stop that."

Nug humping Ancestors! The man really was stubborn. She moved around to straddle his out stretched legs. "Don't you want to know what the Prince is getting?" she said teasingly. Riordan actually looked amused.

"I already know, don't I? Perhaps another time." The easy smile vanished and was replaced by a frown. She was about to ask what was wrong when he shook her off and headed for his tent. He re-emerged with his bow at the same time as Duncan crawled out of the other tent. As he stood, his face looked grim and Jade saw he was holding his weapons' harness. It all happened so fast after that, she barely had time to be afraid. She watched open mouthed as Riordan flexed his shoulders before stringing the bow. "How many?"

"Four, three Roaches and one Bug, coming from the east. Must be a back entrance to the roads somewhere near."

"The usual?"

"Sure." Duncan shrugged and Jade had a feeling she only heard a part of the conversation. Riordan was already disappearing into the darkness outside the firelight by the time she caught up with events and made a dash for her dagger in the tent. A hand grabbed her arm. "No time and I want you to stay behind me and keep out of my way! Is that understood?" Staring into Duncan's eyes that suddenly were hard and sharp, fear washed through her and she felt sick. She nodded.

For all she lived next to the Roads, she had never seen a Darkspawn and obviously she couldn't feel their presence as she had been told Warden's did, but soon she heard them. The shame and anger she felt at hiding behind Duncan like a frightened child, evaporated as the rustling of bushes and disembodied snarls got louder. The Darkspawn made no attempt at subterfuge it seemed and too soon they burst into the light howling. They appeared blinded by rage and threw themselves almost mindlessly at Duncan who glided forward to meet them. The stench from them made Jade gag. Three of them were no taller than her but their bared fangs and the mottled rotting flesh that covered their faces turned them into monsters. There was a twanging sound from the darkness and the one human sized monster fell, an arrow through its neck. Duncan didn't as much duck as simply disappear out of the path of a sword, before his attacker went down in a spray of blood, only a heartbeat before a second monster doubled over with Duncan's dagger buried in its stomach. The final Spawn fell, clutching at an arrow. It twitched on the ground until Duncan slit it's throat. The silence that followed was as sudden as the attack. Jade realised she was kneeling, hugging herself and angrily she stood. Riordan ambled into the light once more and nudged one of the Spawn with his toe. "Works every time." His grin turned into a frown as he looked over at Duncan who was wiping his blades on one of the bodies. As Riordan stepped up to him he straightened, looking surprised. Without a word Riordan grabbed his chin and turned his head. Jade caught a glimpse of blood.

"Just a shallow cut." Duncan's voice was calm but there was a tension between the men that she could almost taste. Suddenly Riordan let go and slapped the back of his head.

"Idiot!" he said grinning. The tension broke. "Make sure he cleans that Jewel, I have Spawn to clear away."

The bodies were dragged some distance from the campsite and most of the night was spent piling rocks on top of them. Animals eating them could get tainted, Duncan explained. Jade wasn't allowed to help with the bodies themselves and that was a relief, but she did collect stones until it felt like her arms would drop off. It was useful work and being useful in any way possible was her game right now.

-ooo-

Wedged between the two men, she leant comfortably against Duncan's solid form, sharing the last of the spirits from Riordan's hipflask. They had built up the fire again and were watching dawn spread pink and orange across the sky. It was quite beautiful and not too scary. As she handed the flask back, she couldn't stop herself. "Your name?"

"What about it" She imagined Riordan was rolling his eyes at her.

"Not a good name. Sounds like something you use to repair Golems. "Hey, Pass me the Reordan."

"I see you've realised there's no coin in it anymore," there was wry humour in his voice, "and it's RI-ordan."

"Can I call you Sky instead?"

He snorted. "Whatever for?"

"Because of your eyes. A much prettier name."

"Maker's balls, NO! Wipe that smirk off your face Duncan and control your recruit."

She felt the vibrations in Duncan's body as he laughed. "It's high time we began training her. I think I'll give you the first go…eh, what was that again Jade, the pretty name?" She almost got squished as Riordan took a swipe at Duncan who sniggered and ducked away. Jade could not help giggling, she was alive, safe and as for Denerhim, well..., there was time to work on that.


	47. The dispute

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. FenZev, Shakespira and Jaden, well, you know... :D

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><p><strong>The dispute<strong>

When the knock on the door came, he knew it was Duncan even before the man entered. That stubborn set to his jaw and the coiled tension with which he moved across the room, also told Riordan he was in for a bollocking, but then, he'd expected that ever since Jade woke after her Joining. He poured another measure of sour Fereldan wine and leaned back. Judging from Duncan's stiff back as he stopped by the window, the best Riordan could hope for was minor bloodshed. That man knew how to hold a grudge all right. Riordan closed his eyes, willing the headache to go away. Taint dreams had been haunting him recently and the old block didn't seem to work. The silence began to get suffocating so in the end he broke it. "I can't believe you're still angry."

Duncan turned to glare at him. "And I can't believe you spilled the beans to Jade."

"What's your problem? The way I see it, it gave her a chance to prepare. She never even blinked, did she?" Angrily Duncan turned to the window again. As far as Riordan was concerned, the less said, the less damage done, so he kept sipping the wine until Duncan spoke again, this time without turning.

"You really don't get it?" Riordan bit back rising anger, electing not to answer. "I'm talking to you, so you might as well answer."

"No."

"No what?"

"No, I see nothing wrong with preparing her." Riordan finished in a conciliatory tone, "Come on, it's over, she didn't reveal that much."

Now Duncan turned to glare at him before grinding out. "The Prince was there, as was his tutor!"

Clinging to his temper, Riordan poured some more wine and said easily, "So what? The Prince was too busy looking down her neckline and the tutor was half asleep. Andraste's cunt! You make it sound like I ran naked through the streets of Denerim, shouting out all dirty Warden secrets. I just told her the truth."

"You know the rules as well as I do." There was something about how Duncan crossed his arms over his chest that made Riordan want to shove him out the window. Sometimes the man really was a self-righteous prick.

"Know them, and decided not to give a shit about them." He made a final effort to remain calm. "We owe her that much. I told her to keep a lid on the information. Guess she was just nervous. Still, no harm done."

"It wasn't for you to decide!" Duncan almost shouted.

Riordan leaned back, looking him straight in the eye. "I also offered her a chance to run."

"I suspected as much." The other man turned back to stare out the window.

"I guess that wasn't for me to decide either." Riordan carefully put both hands on the table. "I'm not your lackey and right now I'm bloody glad, since you seem to be turning more and more into Mathilde with every word you utter." He didn't need to look up to know that Duncan was staring at him.

"What kind of fucking stupidity is that? That's _not_ the issue! These are the rules. They have been in place for centuries for a _reason_!" Stepping up to the table Duncan planted his fists on it. "If we told everybody what happens, about the Joining and everything, we'd _never _get any recruits and then we'd be up shit creek without a paddle when the next Blight comes along."

"Perhaps some would run, yes, _but _we would also only get those willing to make the sacrifice."

"Or we just end up with a load of people too fucked up to care."

"Scum like me you mean."

Straightening abruptly, Duncan looked taken aback. "What... Maker no! Where did that come from? You were drunk and stupid, it's not the same. Some though, they're just..."

"Whores." Riordan finished flatly.

"That's not fair! You know I don't think of her like that."

"Really? Seems to me you've been using her as such these past couple of weeks."

"So have you."

"At least I gave her something in return, if not in coin. Is that the real issue? If she's off limits just say so. I won't touch her again."

Duncan gave an impatient shake of his head. "Of course not. The issue is that you decided to go behind my back. I just don't know what to trust you with anymore."

Riordan felt like he had been stabbed and his hard won calm slipped. "You can start with your life." He spat, getting to his feet. He saw Duncan struggle to form an answer and couldn't help taking vicious satisfaction from the fact that he seemed to have wounded the other man in return. This was exactly what happened when you left yourself open to be hurt. Fuck how he hated it!

Suddenly the door was unceremoniously pushed open. One of the Fereldan Wardens, his round face split into a grin, poked his head in. "There you are! You better get your asses moving. The jewel of Orzammar is awaiting her subjects and is getting impatient." The head disappeared and Riordan glanced towards Duncan whose face was carefully neutral. It hadn't surprised Riordan in the least when Jade very quickly had all eight Fereldan Wardens, and Commander Saeger, wrapped around her little finger and they were all enthusiastic to celebrate her Joining. A feast was the last thing he needed right now, but what he _did_need, was a drink, or ten.

"Well that was a Royal order Duncan, why isn't your ass moving already?" He refused to look at the other man as he headed for the door.

-ooo-

"It's been a battle all the way." Commander Saeger said as he waved a servant over to have his mug refilled. His face was ruddy and there was a soft edge to his words, telling Duncan he was getting well soaked. Not that Duncan minded. He was in no mood to be social and the more pissed Saeger was, the less he would be likely to notice Duncan's monosyllabic answers, or the lack of them. In the corner of his eye he kept track of Riordan, who currently sat at a table surrounded by cheering Wardens in various stages of drunk. Jade had come to settle on his lap. She was leaning forward, her pretty face screwed up and red with effort as she arm-wrestled a man who would have given Roland a run for his money.

Sure, the furniture here wasn't adapted to dwarven stature, but Duncan didn't doubt there was more than just practicality to Jade sitting where she was. Riordan was grinning and trying to drink from his mug without spilling all over her.

"I know you lot go conscriptin' all over the place but believe me, if we ever tried that here, we'd have an angry mob on our doorstep in no time." Duncan nodded impatiently, murmuring something that he hoped sounded like sympathy. Jade was defeated after her opponent had spent quite some time pretending to struggle manfully to the jeering of the other Wardens. She gave Riordan a lingering kiss on the mouth before he turned away to shout for more drinks, he was laughing. It was right and good, Duncan told himself, and it made the Commander's special ale taste of piss and ashes. "No, we have to make do with volunteers," Saeger slapped him clumsily on the back and left his arm to rest there, "which of course means we get bugger all since everybody still thinks Wardens are Orlesian scum."

"Have you spoken to the King about this?" Duncan murmured, not taking his eyes of the group at the next table. Jade was saying something in Riordan's ear before she suddenly caught sight of Duncan and gave him a cheerful wave. He smiled, raising his mug to her.

"The King knows but he has to tread carefully and it doesn't help that the Teyrn is getting more and more paranoid every year." Saeger leaned closer and Duncan was treated to a gust of alcohol breath. "Between you and me, he's turning into an old sourpuss, the Teyrn I mean." Duncan managed a laugh and got himself another slap on the back. "Well, at least we can travel freely now. No need to hide what we are. People grumble sometimes, but that's all."

There was some shuffling going on at the other table and it seemed bets were placed as the winner of the last round of arm-wrestling faced off against a new opponent. Jade seemed happy to stay on Riordan's lap and Riordan was no doubt the envy of the compound. Duncan drained his mug. The thought of him and Riordan leaving Jade in Denerim when they returned to Montsimmard, had gotten increasingly appealing. He noticed Jade slipping one hand inside the top of Riordan's trousers. He caught it but kept his hand on her hip, whispering something in her ear. Duncan downed the contents of his mug.

How many times had he told himself he would be happy if Riordan was happy? That had been a fucking lie. He wanted Riordan to be happy with him –period, Duncan hated himself for it. Bloody Riordan had been willing to leave him to Fiona with no hard feelings, because he thought that was what Duncan wanted. The damned man had even said it with a smile. Here Duncan was, unwilling, no,_unable_to do the same, the thought made him feel dirty and disgusted.

"Here, have some more! It'll put hairs on your chest." Duncan's mug was refilled and Saeger raised his in a toast, "To the Wardens!" before draining it. He nodded towards the group of cheering Wardens. "Maker knows we need new blood. Hah, blood! Get it?" He laughed so hard Duncan feared he might fall off his chair. Wiping tears from his eyes, he continued, "I must say, recruiting in Orzammar is an interesting idea and seeing the young lady over there, I might give it a try, although I might go for someone less, ah, distracting. He's a good sport, your friend. Leaving his girl here an' all."

Duncan stared glumly into his ale. "Yes, yes he is."

-ooo-

When he returned from the latrines, Riordan had disappeared but Jade still remained. Angrily he shoved aside the relief he felt. As he bid her good night, she planted a sloppy kiss on his mouth before resuming singing some bawdy song to her captive audience of Wardens. The corridor was tilting as Duncan slowly made his way back to his room. Luckily he knew the compound quite well by now. Outside Riordan's room he stopped. The Taint told him the man was inside and he knew this was his chance to set things right. Leaning his forehead against the cool plaster wall he tried to steel himself. How long had it been since he'd had to fear not being welcome there? They needed to talk, no; _he_needed to talk to Riordan. What he doubted was that Riordan wanted to talk to him. With a sigh he knocked. There was no answer, so he spoke quietly, "It's me." and pushed the door open.

Riordan was sitting on the bed. There was a bottle of something on the floor next to him and he was tearing a piece of cloth into strips. It looked awkward since he seemed to be favouring his right hand and looking closer, in the dim light, Duncan could see the knuckles were raw and bleeding. "So who's the unfortunate bastard this time?" he joked lamely.

"Nobody." Riordan didn't even look up so Duncan sat down on the bed next to him.

"That looks nasty, sure it's not broken?" he tried to catch the other man's hand but it was jerked away.

"Pretty sure." He watched Riordan try to tear up more strips of cloth.

"Are you sober enough to do that properly?"

The other man scoffed. "Believe it or not, I _can_manage without you."

"I'm sure you can." Duncan tore a few new strips as he took the plunge. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, you know, about not trusting you."

Riordan paused for a moment before accepting the strips. "Forget about it."

"I was angry and..."

"I said -forget about it!" Duncan stared at the messy curtain of dark hair that hid Riordan's face. He hadn't expected this to be easy but it was quickly going from bloody difficult to impossible. He felt a new flare of anger but it spluttered out and died as he remembered how the other man's eyes had turned dark and shuttered at his words.

"I just don't want to..."

"Look I'm drunk and tired. It's fine, really. I just want to hit the sack."

Staring at the floor Duncan wondered if he should retreat, or if he should push on, push everything he wanted to say and do, down Riordan's throat to see if he would choke on it. In the end the coward in him won out.

"Sure." he said as he stood. By the door he hesitated again but found nothing further to say. Defeated he murmured, "Good night."

"Same."


	48. The Travellers

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. FenZev, Jaden and Shakespira, consider this a small Valentine gift... :D

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><p><strong>The Travellers<strong>

It came as no surprise to Duncan when Riordan returned from the bar with a smile full of shadows to set down a chipped flagon that smelled of cheap spirits. Already at dawn when they left Denerim, he'd gotten a whiff of alcohol on the man's breath and Riordan had kept sipping from his hip flask all through the day. Duncan's gut clenched with tension. The man had been hounded by Taint dreams recently. It happened on occasion and this time even Duncan had felt them nipping at the edges of sleep. Sadly he suspected the dreams were only a part of the reason for Riordan's drinking, but how did you mend fences with somebody who insisted that nothing was broken?

"They are getting stronger, I've felt them too." He managed to catch the flagon just before it fell over the edge."

"The Dragon is nothing -nothing!" Riordan snatched it back and drank without bothering with the mug. "It's when it starts growing heads of..., it starts growing heads." He handed the flagon over before rubbing his face with his palms. "Ah, putain de Merde! She keeps crying even after I've hacked off her head. What are you looking at asshole!" That last was directed at a member of a group of noisy mercenaries that had been giving them the evil eye since they entered the inn. Duncan winced. While the confession about the dreams had been in Orlesian, the last sentence had been in loud and clear Fereldan. Damn the man! As if Duncan wasn't already regretting announcing their loyalties by wearing the Grey Warden tabards, despite Riordan's misgivings.

"Pipe down, will you." Duncan growled. He loved Riordan so much it hurt sometimes, but Maker's balls, the man really knew how to bring out the worst in him.

Riordan snorted. "Now, who shoved the stick up your ass this time?"

Resisting the urge to hit him, Duncan snapped, "I just don't have any particular wish to fight off a load of mercs wanting to give some Orlesians a whooping."

"That lot?" Riordan nodded towards the mercenaries. "Thought there was nothing to worry about, or so I was told." There was no mistaking the sarcasm. To Duncan's chagrin Riordan turned towards the mercenaries again. "Since we are all friends now, I can only assume you're staring at me because you want to screw me." Standing up, he flung his arms wide. "Well, come on then, don't be shy!"

"Orlesian whore!"

"For fuck's sake Riordan, there's five of them." Duncan hissed as he stood to grab Riordan by the arm. The man's head snapped around and there was a sneer on his face.

"Only five? Are you turning into a sissy?"

"That's it. I've had it with you tonight." Unceremoniously Duncan punched the other man on the chin; he went down like a tree. Grimacing with pain and rubbing his knuckles, Duncan crouched by his prone companion. There was only a slight quiver of regret as he hoisted Riordan across his shoulders. Straightening with a grunt, he turned towards the mercenaries. "Gentlemen, on behalf of my colleague, I apologise and wish you a pleasant evening."

-ooo-

Duncan peered over the saddle towards where Riordan was readying his horse. Despite having slept through most of the morning whilst Duncan brooded in the taproom, he looked like death warmed over and there was a colourful swelling on his jaw that made Duncan squirm with guilt. They hadn't spoken since exchanging a muted 'good morning' earlier. Concern prodded Duncan in the back but he wasn't sure how an offer of help would be received, since even after a sober evening, Riordan wasn't his best in the mornings. The things Riordan had said in Denerim were at eating him too. Was he really that boring? Blight and blood, was he turning into Mathilde? The thought made him even more depressed. He sighed. "I'm sorry." Uncertain of which of the many things he meant.

"What are _you_ sorry for?" Riordan actually looked taken aback.

"For you know, everything...I should have found a better way."

Shaking his head Riordan cut him off. "Andraste's tits Duncan, will you ever learn?" He walked over to stand on the other side of the horse. "I said a load of crap last night, like I always do when I've had too much." His eyes slid off Duncan's face and settled on his hand that rested on the saddle. Absentmindedly he reached out and brushed over Duncan's knuckles with his thumb as he spoke, "There's nothing wrong with you, you hear me? The way I've been recently, I wouldn't have been surprised if you just headed off without me."

"I wouldn't..." Duncan began.

"I know, that's the problem. You're taking far too much shit from me..." Riordan raked a hand through his hair, "I'm lousy at this. Listen, next time just knock me out sooner."

Relieved Duncan grinned. "Could I have that in writing please?" Riordan grinned back, a bit hesitantly.

"Not on your life. You pack quite a punch."

-ooo-

It was sunny when they rode out but quickly turned dull with a bite to the wind which shouldn't have been there for this time of the year. But this was Ferelden. Come nightfall they could have sunshine again, or rain.

The silence between them was full of unfinished business and that brief respite this morning but a faded memory. Duncan glanced sideways at Riordan's profile and saw his pallor. When had the man last had a decent night's sleep? How much of the problem was the dreams and how much was all the stupid things Duncan had shouted at him in Denerim? Looking down at the reins in his hands, he wondered angrily when he'd stop being idiot and make the stubborn sod talk? "It's strange, the Taint dreams I mean." he offered cautiously. "We all have them once in a while but they _have_ become stronger."

Riordan shrugged. "Doesn't have to mean anything. You know as well as I do it changes all the time."

"Yeah, but the Darkspawn are definitely more restless."

"Are you're thinking of what that creature said, that Spawn you met with Genevieve."

"Yes."

"I never trust Spawn and see even less reason to trust one that talks." Riordan huffed. Duncan had to admit that after four hundred years of no Blight, it might be hard to believe another was imminent, but he had a feeling also that Riordan didn't as much disbelieve as didn't care. He was still brooding about that when he heard Riordan groan 'oh fuck'.

There was a man standing in the road with a shield strapped to his back and a sword in his hand. Duncan's heart plummeted as he recognised one of the mercenaries from last night, the one with a scar down the side of his face. Whatever had done that damage, had taken his eye too. The remaining eye glared balefully at the two Wardens. "You took your sweet time." As he spoke, more mercenaries stepped out on the road but at that stage Duncan's heart couldn't drop any further. He counted eight men and one woman. They all had their weapons drawn and he spotted a couple of crossbows as well as a bow. The wide open road was no place for the confrontation he saw coming and he glanced towards the trees on either side. They were close but might as well have been miles away for all good they did. What he DID see, were two nooses dangling from a large chestnut tree. Pushing aside his unease, Duncan said genially, "If I had known you were waiting we would have hurried up. Now, what can I do for you?"

Oneeye growled. "You've got a smart mouth Orlesian, but that won't save you this time."

"Would it make _any_ difference if I told you neither of us is Orlesian?" Duncan asked curiously.

"Doesn't matter where your whoring mother spread her legs." Oneeye spat on the ground as if the words taste bad. "The King is a fool. I fought with Teyrn Loghain, he knew scum when he saw it." The man was almost shaking with anger and Duncan wondered what the Orlesians had done to him. Most Fereldans suffered at their hands during the occupation. Grief did terrible things to people; his own father was an example of that. The chances of talking them out of this mess lessened with every word.

"The Teyrn knows right from wrong and I doubt he would wish for you to break the peace treaty." He had his doubts about that but was desperate to stall what he knew was coming. The irony that he finally might get his hanging wasn't lost on him.

"Signed by that cunt you call an Empress. Everybody knows she fucked and murdered herself to the throne, even her own brother! Now get down or get shot down!" The horses were their only advantage. Sitting on them, both he and Riordan made great targets for the archers but they could also provide some badly needed cover and distraction.

He was prepared for it when Riordan sent, _'Now!'_ and allowed himself to topple backwards over the horse's rump. As he landed heavily in a crouch he was already reaching for a dagger. Nearby, Riordan's horse was whinnying and the air filled with swearing and shouting. An arrow whizzed past. Duncan didn't have time to look but he could feel Riordan, hopefully he was already heading for cover. The man might be reckless but he knew impossible odds when he saw them. Keeping behind his sidestepping horse, Duncan managed to get a clear view of the archer and the man went down clutching at the dagger embedded in this throat. Feeling movement, Duncan ducked sideways and caught a glimpse of the mercenary woman. Her sword bit into his arm, sliding neatly between sections of the armour. Gritting his teeth he ignored the burning pain. There was no time for finesse or the others would overwhelm him. Using his attacker's own momentum, he grabbed her sword arm and yanked her forward onto his second dagger. Her body hadn't hit the ground before he was running for the cover of the forest.

He could still feel Riordan but the man seemed further away than he should be. Crouching by a tree Duncan listened, it had gone very silent. _'Run!'_ The sending made his head hurt and a wave of nausea rolled over him. Automatically he began to move but froze as his instincts screamed that something was wrong. "Mudface! We've got your whore." Oneeye's voice was harsh and angry. "If I don't see you here before I've counted to ten, I'll make sure his death is slow and painful!" Duncan turned back even before the counting started. Pausing before stepping out into the open, he spotted Riordan kneeling with his hands on his head and Oneeye next to him. They were flanked by five mercenaries. Riordan must have taken one down. Blood was seeping from his temple and he was glaring in Duncan's direction with an angry scowl. One of the mercenaries was standing behind him with a crossbow ready.

As Duncan stepped out on the road he almost thought he could hear Riordan swearing in his head but if the man thought Duncan would buy his life with Riordan's, he was fucking crazy. Oneeye grinned triumphantly and Duncan's grip on his blades tightened. "Seems all Orlesians aren't cowardly bitches after all." Oneeye sneered. Ignoring him, Duncan kept his eyes locked on Riordan's. The man's scowl deepened and he raised his chin in a defiant tilt Duncan knew only too well. _'Don't!'_ he sent in panic but was completely overwhelmed by a loud _'GET OUT!'_ which nearly brought him to his knees. Riordan twisted and launched himself at Oneeye. A quarrel missed him by a hairsbreadth. Oneeye managed to raise his sword but Duncan couldn't tell if it struck home as both men crashed to the ground. It reminded him eerily of a Mabari taking down an enemy.

He knew he'd never be able to stop all the mercenaries in time and hearing the sound of another crossbow being fired, he cursed in despair, throwing himself at the nearest enemy. The man was too surprised to put up much of a fight. Blood sprayed over Duncan's face as he skewered him. Dumbly he watched two of the mercenaries topple with arrows protruding from their bodies. Another had already gone down. Riordan, covered in gore, repeatedly slammed Oneeye's head against the ground; the mercenary was already dead.

The final mercenary dropped his axe as if it burned him and slowly raised his hands. Only now, did Duncan spot the two men and a woman, emerging from the trees. One of them, a tall fellow with gaunt face and light brown hair, waved at him. Since they didn't seem to pose any immediate threat, Duncan hurried over to Riordan who was rolling off Oneeye's limp body to flop onto his back. Sinking down on his knees, Duncan shouted, "You fucking moron, what did you do that for!" Frantically he clutched at Riordan's side trying to stop the blood that welled through gaps in the armour. It took him a moment to realise that the man who had greeted him earlier crouched next to them.

"That needs to be seen to. My sister is good at healing, if you will allow it. I'm Levi by the way, Levi Dryden."

-ooo-

Even Duncan, who was good at names, gave up trying to remember any of the Dryden's names beyond Levi, an uncle Amos and a sister, or was it niece, called Esther; the people that had come to such timely rescue. Eventually he added Levi's sister Sarah, who took charge when Riordan was carried up to the wagons that had been left further down the road. Duncan hovered for a bit, until Levi gently but firmly ushered him away. He consoled himself with the fact that whatever Sarah did, she would do better than him and he approved of the sedative she used. He was definitely not leaving without that recipe. He tried to see to his own shallow cut, but was immediately accosted by women who scolded him before fussing over the wound.

Later, sitting by the freshly lit camp fire, Duncan spent some time politely fending off the not so subtle advances of a cheerful elderly woman with a face like a wrinkly winter apple. Levi settled next to him and handed him a bowl of stew.

"Nava is getting on in years but there's plenty of life in her yet." He winked. "Best cook in Ferelden too; keeps us alive when on the road better than any sword." He waved his own bowl and inhaled the aromas with a big smile before taking a mouthful. "She's worn out five husbands but they all died happy men."

Nava laughed and slapped Levi on the arm before ambling off to do something to the stew on the fire. Levi continued unperturbed, "Your friend seems to be doing fine too. Skilled people our women." Duncan nodded. He had looked in on a sleeping Riordan earlier and wondered if there might not be more than a little a bit of magic to Levi's sisters healing touch. Not that he cared; there were worse things in this world than apostates and hedge witches, whatever the Chantry said. The Drydens had earned his eternal gratitude by saving Riordan.

Looking around he asked, "Are you always so many on your journeys?" As he understood it, the Drydens were merchants and many merchants spent most of their time travelling, but this seemed to be an entire family, several families in fact, and the camp resembled a small mobile village. Large shaggy dogs were stretched out near the fire, waiting for scraps and there seemed to be children everywhere.

"The roads are dangerous and guards for hire are expensive and not very trustworthy. We Drydens look after each other. It wouldn't be right to keep our families apart either." Levi paused thoughtfully before continuing, "I don't mean to pry or anything but what quarrel would mercenaries have with a pair of Wardens?" Duncan hesitated. The Drydens had taken sides without question. He was reluctant to reveal anything that might ruin it all.

"We're from the Orlesian order." He held his breath but Levi only shook his head sadly.

"It's a hard thing for people to leave the past where it belongs. It's a hurt that fester and it's a great shame that good King Maric can't do more about the prejudices against the order." His words surprised Duncan.

"That's very er, open minded of you."

Levi smiled and said easily. "Ah, you could say my family have special ties with the Wardens." Duncan had recognised the name Dryden, most Wardens would, but he hadn't made the connection until now. Seeing the expression on his face, Levi continued. "Yep, Sophia Dryden was my great, great, and so forth, grandmother. Funny old world isn't it?" Duncan nodded. What were the odds of being rescued by the descendants of the disgraced noble and Warden Commander? The woman responsible for getting the order barred from Ferelden two hundred years ago? Before he had a chance to ask more questions, Levi nodded towards one of the wagons. "Look, your companion has come around. Not a mean feat, Sarah's knockout drink is not to be trifled with." Despite already knowing Riordan was out of danger, seeing him up and about made Duncan breathe easier and he only half listened as Levi continued, "The story goes she uses it on her man on a regular basis, ain't that right Aaron?" There was a round of laughter while a man, Aaron presumably, was pelted with suggestions on how to solve his domestic problems. Duncan smiled with the rest while taking a closer look at Riordan who was making his way towards them, carefully holding a hand against his side. Dressed in an ugly tunic that was much too large and with nothing on his feet he looked vulnerable, far from the warrior Duncan knew him to be. Without saying a word he eased himself down beside Duncan, accepting a mug of tea handed to him by one of the men, with a nod of thanks. He sipped it quietly while the conversation ebbed and flowed around them. Duncan's offer of bread was turned down with a shake of the head. They remained by the fire as people began to retire for the night and peace settled over the camp.

Reluctant to go to bed without having exchanged as much as a word, Duncan settled back against one of their saddles preparing to wait. Riordan kept turning the mug in his hands and staring at the ground, his face hidden behind his hair. When Levi as the last man had waved goodnight, he finally spoke without looking up.

"Ever since I woke I've been trying to find something to say, but I'm sorry, I have nothing." Duncan hesitated a moment before moving the hair from the other man's face, hooking it behind his ear. "Are you sure you're OK?"

Still refusing to look up Riordan answered, "I almost got you hanged, I feel great."

"Well, I have something to say. Never _ever_ try to buy my life with yours again, or if you do, make bloody sure you succeed since next time I'll make you'll wish you hadn't."

Instead of latching on to Duncan's lighter tone Riordan turned away, "I haven't hated myself like this in a long time." Duncan hated the defeat and self-loathing in his friend's voice. Gone was the man who would spit an enemy in the face with a knife at his throat, or laugh away impossible odds, making everyone around him believe. Without giving it a moment's thought, he grabbed Riordan by the neck and pulled his head tight against his shoulder. He felt Riordan briefly try to pull away, only to unexpectedly give in, collapsing against him so suddenly he had to catch himself. "I'm so bloody sorry." Riordan whispered against his chest as a tremor ran through his body. "Do me a favour and beat the crap out of me. That I can understand. Preferably now while I'm still groggy."

"I'm taking no orders from you." Duncan murmured as he wrapped his arm around the other man. "Go get some sleep, you'll think more clearly in the morning." He was totally unprepared when Riordan simply slid down to lay his head in his lap and closed his eyes.

"Do as you like, I'll never understand you anyway." Riordan murmured.

Running his fingers through the hair on Riordan's neck, Duncan felt his tension ebb with each stroke. "Maybe it doesn't matter."

"Maybe not. Fuck I love you."

Duncan continued to stroke the other man's neck even after his head grew heavy in his lap. _'Never gave it much thought, don't think it would matter much to me if you were gone.'_ Riordan had said. Why could he not see it was the same for Duncan? Looking down he wished he could always see him as he was now; unguarded, alive. Duncan brushed the last tresses of hair out of the other man's face. Riordan's profile was outlined by the firelight, his eyelashes casting spikes of shadows on his cheek. "I fucking love you too."


	49. The Mouser

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Special reserved hugs to Fenzev, Jaden and Shakespira.

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><p><strong>The Mouser<strong>

Riordan woke with his wound on fire, a root digging into his side and Duncan's arm draped across his chest. Ignoring the discomforts he remained still, listening to the light snores from the man, savouring this moment. There were snuffling sounds from the horses, otherwise the camp was silent. He looked at the hand resting against his chest. Gently he touched the slack fingers, tracing the slim lines of bone under the brown skin. Strong and fragile, flawed and perfect.

The snores had stopped he realised, moments before Duncan murmured against the back of his neck, "Slept well?"

Riordan rolled over on his back. "Never better." The slow smile he was rewarded with made everything else seem unimportant. Duncan smiled seldom but always with his soul, unlike himself. He felt the other man's hand brush against his cheek, forcing speech from him. "About yesterday..."

"I don't give a flying fuck about yesterday," Duncan said firmly, "except for one thing, what about today?" He could see the gold flecks in Duncan's eyes. The man was bloody beautiful and Riordan wasn't even drunk.

"I..." It was getting impossible to think. He drew a deep breath just as a shrill voice exclaimed,

"You're wearing father's shirt!" A small boy with a runny nose studied him curiously with a slightly older child, non runny, peering from behind him.

Not knowing if he should be relieved or angry Riordan retorted, "Blight! He can have it back anytime!" That immediately produced a triumphant grin in the boy.

"Ha, he doesn't want it. Mother can't sew for shit!"

"Shut up Joshua!" The other child, a girl judging by the braids, tugged his dirty sleeve. "Father told us never to say we heard him say that."

Looking down at the ill fitting garment Riordan said, "Well your father is right." He scowled. "Now scat!"

This didn't have the desired effect. Instead the boy stuck his thumbs inside the top of his trousers and sounding very pleased declared, "And Mother said you should move your arses, or she'll do it for you 'cause it's time for breakfast."

Duncan sat up as the children scampered off. "To think I've always wanted kids."

"Really?"

"Is that so hard to imagine?" His tone was wry, but the smile was tinged with sadness.

"Actually no. You would have been a great father, and husband."

"Perhaps, had things turned out differently." As if wanting to change the subject Duncan gave the mismatched sleeves of Riordan's shirt a tug. "That woman must rival a desire demon between the sheets to keep her man." Riordan struggled into a sitting position. Fuck that hurt. Wincing he put a hand against the tender wound.

"It's fine." He said automatically, seeing the worried look on Duncan's face. Firmly the man pulled his hand away to have a look for himself. Lifting the hem of the tunic he gently brushed his fingers over half healed, reddened skin. Riordan gritted his teeth. "Really, it's healing perfectly if the itching is anything to go by."

"If you say so." Duncan's hands moved to touch the old scars where those quarrels had struck Riordan a lifetime ago. Riordan raised his eyes to catch his.

"Perhaps we're even now. Time to go separate ways before everything is ruined, eh?"

"Do you want to?" Duncan's eyes bored into him and again forced an honest answer out of him.

"No."

Was that relief he saw flashing across Duncan's face? "That's sorted then. Levi has offered you to ride in Nava's wagon today. It's probably a good idea. Riordan tried to protest as he stiffly got off the ground but Duncan continued, grinning, "You two will get on like a house on fire."

"What? What's so bloody funny?"

-ooo-

Duncan leaned against the doorframe and looked at the curtain of rain that hid the world from view. Behind him in the hay scented dimness of the barn, he could hear Riordan prowl as he explored their temporary shelter. Having left the Drydens and their caravan at the crossroads, they had gotten another taste of Ferelden's fickle weather and little rivulets of water were still finding their way underneath Duncan's armour. Sourly he wondered if some malignant being had arranged for this to happen _after_ they left the caravan and it's snug wagons. "Have a look at this!" Riordan called. Turning his back on the deluge Duncan had to wait for his eyes to adjust before he eventually spotted him lying on his stomach on top of the pile of hay near the roof.

"What in the Makers name are you doing?"

"Come on!" Riordan's voice was slightly muffled. Duncan scrabbled up to join him and had to bite his tongue not to say anything about the wound. As he stretched out next to him, Riordan turned and flashed him a grin, waving in the direction of the back wall. Duncan looked and saw nothing. "No, there!" There was badly hidden mirth in Riordan's voice as he reached out and turned Duncan's head. Finally he spotted them and recoiled sharply.

"Bloody cats!"

"An entire litter!" Was there a note of glee in Riordan's voice? Watching the balls of fur tumble around in the hay, Duncan immediately felt shivers crawl up his back.

On Riordan's prompting they ate their midday meal on top of the hay mountain, with Riordan smiling at the beasts' antics and Duncan trying to keep an eye on them all to ensure none got close. Things could have been worse though. They were dry in here as the rain turned the outside into mud and the bloody animals had succeeded where Duncan's best efforts had not and chased away the last of Riordan's gloom. As unsettling as the cats were, Duncan found himself watching his friend watching them, as affection warmed him from his sodden boots to his damp hair. Suddenly Riordan rose, crept closer to the cats and just as they bolted he leapt and grabbed for something. Duncan tensed as the man returned with a kitten spitting and hissing in his hands. "The runt of the litter, all skin and bones now." Duncan eyed the animal warily but couldn't help laughing as Riordan exclaimed, "Damn!" as the beast sank its claws into him.

"Serves you bloody right!" He shook his head. "Put it out of its misery and be done with it!"

"I guess so." Riordan regarded the twisting creature. "On the other hand," he continued thoughtfully, "this one got the shit kicked out of him by all the others and_still_ he's trying to get at me. I think he deserves another chance." Duncan knew very well what was going through the other man's head; to top it off the little monster was pitch black.

"Come on, we can't keep a pet." He protested hopelessly.

"Of course not, we'll just fatten him up a bit and then give him to some farmer who wants a mouser."

"WE? I'm not feeding that pest."

"Ah, so you prefer to have a hungry mouser around you at night." Riordan's smile was sly. "You surprise me Ratboy."

"Fine, take this." Duncan quickly tossed some smoked meat Riordan's way.

Riordan chuckled as he chewed on the meat before presenting it to the cat who almost choked trying to wolf it all down. "He has your eating habits." He said cheerfully. "Ouch! Bugger bit me again."

"He has your sweet temper!" Duncan shot back struggling hard to maintain his scowl. "Load him up if you really must, we got to get going." Riordan emptied the top of one of his saddlebags and tossed in some hay. "I hope the little bastard craps in it." Duncan muttered sourly, yet he couldn't help the elation he felt at seeing the gleam of humour in Riordan's eyes as he looked up.

"Lighten up. Mouser won't eat you."

"So the beast has a name now." Duncan groused.

"And a good one!" Putting the hissing kitten in the saddlebag with some more meat, he loosely tied the lid closed. "Perhaps we should try for some fish this evening?"

Duncan raised his hands in a gesture of frustration. "Sure, why not, anything to please. Really, you have the weirdest soft spots." He couldn't help being affected by Riordan's enthusiasm though, it was good to see. "If we increase our pace a bit we could hit that river where I got the massive trout."

"Beginner's luck." Riordan huffed. Then suddenly he looked away. "Duncan, I..."

"What?"

There was a brief pause before Riordan shook his head. "Nothing, let's get going."

-ooo-

Any hopes Duncan might have had that the cat would be gone at first shot of freedom quickly disappeared. That one knew a good thing when he saw it. Again it was Duncan who caught the first fish to Riordan's chagrin and as he watched the skinny thing wolf down the entrails like it was cream, he couldn't help warming to it, just a bit. 'Yeah Mouser, I know the feeling.' He gingerly gave the tiny back a quick pat, all spine and ribs. 'I remember that too.' Despite his earlier avowal that the monster would get only scraps he found himself cutting off a nice piece of fillet and toss it towards the cat. Looking up he caught Riordan watching him with a strange soft expression on his face. Of course the man immediately looked away so Duncan turned his attention back to the kitten. "Don't get any funny ideas mind you. I don't like you one bit and I'm sure you are packed with fleas."

"He is." Riordan confirmed, scratching his wrist. "I'm going in."

"Hey! I just touched him."

"Plenty of room for two in the stream, a bit brisk though." Riordan smirked as Duncan swore and shot Mouser a murderous glare. Summer it may be but the rain had left the air damp and cool and Duncan had been looking forward to staying warm by the fire.

Returning from his wash, he settled shivering so close to the flames his boots began to steam. The kitten lay curled up around its distended stomach almost as close to the fire as him and slept. Riordan liberated a sack from their packs and poured a generous measure of the bug powder reserved for stays at less savoury inns, into it.

"How about you save some for the rest of the trip." Duncan muttered and was rewarded with a wicked grin from Riordan who then snatched up the sleeping kitten and tossed it into the sack. He gave the squirming, hissing sack a few shakes before opening it. The cat shot out and into to the woods like a black arrow.

Duncan laughed and shook his head. "Why didn't you do that before?"

"Had to feed him properly first, else he'd never return." Riordan shrugged. "Now it's touch and go. Andrastes arse, that animal is vicious!" He inspected his hands that sported some impressive scratches. Tossing aside the sack he dug out the bottle of apple brandy he'd been given by Nava when they parted ways. It had been handed over as the woman planted a big kiss on Riordan's mouth. An amused Duncan had tried to draw him out on the subject but only gotten an enigmatic shrug and grin for his effort.

Pouring two generous measures he handed a mug to Duncan before settling on the saddle behind his back, slipping an arm around him. Duncan leaned back against Riordan's chest and relaxed. "I'm sure he got the message. That one's a survivor, knows which side his bread is buttered on." he murmured feeling utterly content. There was a brief pressure to his temple before he felt Riordan's chin settle against the side of his head.

"Maybe. We shall see."

-ooo-

Duncan was proven right when the next morning Mouser appeared, running straight at his feet, brushing against them as he begged for food. He gave the cat the last of the trout that he had secretly stashed away. Mouser ate sitting close to him whilst keeping a careful eye on Riordan, it was clear he had not forgotten about the bag treatment. "Now what? I've got a cat?" Duncan complained.

Riordan chuckled. "The little bugger loves you! Let him why don't you?" Duncan rolled a number of answers around in his mind, finally he settled for the safe one. "Does he expect to ride in my saddlebags?"

"Absolutely." Riordan was definitely smirking now.

With a resigned sigh Duncan removed the top layer in his saddle bag, tossing the gear towards Riordan. "Fine, no lice?"

"None whatsoever." Riordan said with a confidence that wasn't entirely convincing.

"Right then, and you'll get rid of him at the first opportunity."

"That's what I said! Just feed him up, otherwise no one will have him."

Mouser grew healthy and sleek looking already after a couple of weeks, but by then Duncan couldn't bring himself to suggest getting rid of him. At night the kitten slept on his chest or between his legs. That was one smart cat. Who would want to sleep on the twisting and turning Riordan? Duncan even found himself petting Mouser on several occasions. His purring eventually began to sound soothing instead of unpleasant. In the mornings the cat would be gone, probably to hunt, only to reappear right as they had loaded up the horses.

"That's so you!" Duncan laughed. "See the innocent face?"

Riordan smiled. "Told you he was clever! Then again, he trusts you with a horse...

"Don't listen to the evil man!" Duncan stroked the cat who blinked at him before falling asleep in his usual place in the saddle bags. "And that's also pure Riordan." Duncan chuckled.

-ooo-

It was not without regret Duncan watched Riordan squatting down to hand over Mouser to a young girl with dark braids before clasping wrists with her father. Mouser fixed Duncan with his yellow gaze as the girl carried him off.

"Well, that's it. That bloody cat will be so coddled." Riordan said cheerfully as he returned to Duncan who was holding the horses.

"Are you sure?" The place looked nice enough and the girl certainly had seemed delighted with the kitten, still...

"Told them he was a Warden protégé so, yes I am." Riordan looked at Duncan with some concern. "What's wrong? I thought you would be deliriously happy now the little monster is gone."

"Of course I am, I was just checking." Duncan shrugged.

Patting him on the shoulder Riordan said, "Duncan, that cat will sleep indoors next to a young lass the rest of his life. What's there to worry about?"

"Did you tell her he likes fish?"

Riordan regarded him strangely. "Yes I did. Now, let's head into town and I'll buy you a triple."


	50. The visit

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Easter bunnies and candy-eggs to out faithful reveivers Fenzev, Jaden & Shakespira. And a hug and welcome to Kaedwen. Many thanks to those who read.

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><p><strong>The visit<strong>

Loghain tilted his head back to look at the massive walls of Redcliffe Castle that rose out of Lake Calenhad to tower over them. It seemed to have grown out of the very rock it sat on, only the red colour of the bedrock that had given the castle and the village its name separating it from the stone made by men. Once upon a time people had thought it impregnable. Loghain held back a smirk as he urged his horse onto the narrow bridge that linked the castle to the mainland. He could think of at least three ways to take that castle and that was without resorting to treason. The Orlesians had discovered one during the occupation although their victory had come at a high price thanks to the proud and stubborn villagers.

"An impressive sight as always! Wife breeding yet?" These nobles thought him crude and unsophisticated and Loghain loved the way they had to swallow his comments. They might call him whatever they liked behind his back as long as they went 'baah baah' like good sheep to his face. He loved that they hated it and Eamon was the worst of the lot, always bowing and scraping whilst he sharpened his knives. There had been a time when Loghain and Maric could spend a happy evening drinking and reminiscing about some of Eamon's more ridiculously boring rants. Maric did a passable impersonation of him at his most pompous. The years had not been kind to that sort of camaraderie though. Loghain's bitter thoughts were interrupted by the pompous ass himself.

"Sadly no, but thank you for your concern your Grace." Naturally it was said in an even tone with just the right hint of gratitude, but looking over Loghain could see the angry tension in the man. He lived for the day when Eamon finally would lose his rag. Surely there must be some grain of passion in him since he went against all convention when he married that vapid Orlesian woman. "Ah, but you aren't getting any younger and we can't have the Arl of Redcliffe going too long without an heir. Loghain paused for effect. "No sign at all, you sure?"

"Not yet no." Did the man sound just a tiny bit defensive?

"Funny, one would think with her being Orlesian there really wouldn't be a problem. They seem to breed like rabbits over there. You might have to consider setting her aside." The man was practically gritting his teeth now. Loghain kept his face carefully straight. Actually he much preferred that Eamon spent his time banging his wife than droning on at the council. "But it's a matter of time no doubt." He cheerfully concluded as the party entered the courtyard.

Loghain slid of his horse and was stretching his legs as the Arl's seneschal called for their horses to be taken care off. It seemed to take longer every time to work out the stiffness in the joints. Looking around he caught sight of the Arlessa talking to two men that apparently had just arrived. There was a flicker of apprehension on Eamon's face which made him take a closer look at them.

They were wearing leather armour that had seen much use and both carried several visible blades. There was no mistaking the air of suspended tension and the faint whiff of danger that surrounded them. If those two weren't trouble, he was an Orlesian lapdog. In fact the swarthy-faced one looked unpleasantly familiar and Loghain caught him looking in his direction. He looked as happy to see Loghain as Eamon was to see him and his companion. The other man was bowing to the Arlessa with foppish flair and Loghain heard the unmistakeable tones of Orlesian. This was getting very interesting. "Isn't that your wife chatting up some fellow countrymen?"

Eamon's voice was sharp with irritation. "That's Duncan, he's a Grey Warden, passes by now and then. He's Fereldan by the way and a friend of the King." The king was far too fond of the Wardens. No surprise Eamon was sucking up to them as well. Unfortunately Loghain _had_ seen that fellow before. First in the company of the walking trouble known as former Orlesian Warden Commander Genevieve and later on talking to Maric. This was going from interesting to critical. Whilst the Wardens of any nation held a special place in Loghain's heart as wasters of national recourses and untrustworthy freeloaders, Duncan was a different animal altogether. Why could the man not have died fighting Darkspawn alongside his Commander as he was meant to? Instead of being a living and breathing breach of national security, born Fereldan or not. He had inside knowledge of Maric's dirtiest secret and was an annoying focus for the crown prince's dreams of heroes and glory. Loghain was fairly certain he knew why he was here. The question was, did that other Warden know it too? "And the other one?"

Finally the Arl lost his temper. "Damn, how should I know? If their presence offends you I will ask them to take their leave."

Loghain had planned to care for his stallion himself but now he handed him over to a groom. The Wardens needed his undivided attention. "Not at all. In fact, I would be much obliged if you asked them to join us for dinner. I find the Grey rather fascinating. Especially when I come across them in unexpected places."

-ooo-

An elven servant entered the library with the two Warden's in tow and informed them the Arl would join them shortly. Loghain straightened from the map he had been studying to greet them with a nod. "Wardens."

"Your Grace." Duncan bowed deeply, his face set in an expression Loghain could only call 'polite.' The cheeky thief had sadly grown into a man that didn't look like he was about to die anytime soon and carried himself with the power of one used to surviving. No wonder he had insinuated himself into Cailan's favours. The boy was as impressionable as mud. The other Warden hung back, just a little and bowed.

Turning to a tray with a carafe and three goblets, Loghain poured himself a drink, good old fashioned mulled cider; his squire had his head screwed on right. "Imagine that. Two Warden's from our new best friend in the south." He drawled. "I assume you are here to visit the Arl." With no trace of uncertainty Duncan joined him by the tray. He spoke easily as he filled the remaining goblets. "Indeed, I'm Duncan and this is my Warden Brother Riordan." He gestured towards his companion who ambled up to them and took a goblet.

"I know who you are." Loghain never took his eyes of Duncan, trying to gauge his reaction. "I admit I'm surprised. I didn't' know Eamon had any involvement with the order."

"We're merely passing through. We were in Denerim some weeks back and when the King honoured us with a meeting he asked if we might bring some messages to the Arl." Despite Duncan's relaxed demeanour and the easy lie, Loghain felt like they were two large predators circling each other looking for signs of weakness.

"You have travelled far. Going via Redcliffe will make it quite a bit further." He sipped his cider. "What could that possibly benefit two Wardens from Orlais?"

Duncan turned the goblet in his hands and sniffed the contents appreciatively. "We keep regular communications between the bases and with the Darkspawn increasingly restless, travelling a different route back gave us a chance to assess the situation. Also we have been delivering the ashes of a fallen comrade to his family. They live in this area." Returning the remains of the fallen was something Loghain understood and had to grudgingly approve of. The lad had learned a thing or two over the years.

"If I'm not mistaken you are Fereldan by birth, are you not?" Loghain probed.

Duncan rewarded his effort with an open smile. "I was born in Highever." There was no scratching that surface but Duncan's companion froze, his goblet halfway to his lips, quite a switch from his disinterested demeanour of before. Curious.

"Then I would say you are a Fereldan that had some very bad luck, or showed a remarkable lack of judgement. And you?" He turned to the other Warden who was still staring at Duncan.

The man, obviously caught off guard blurted, "What? Ah pardon, I try to learn. Duncan has the, how you say, patience of a Saint. Orlesian yes, your Grace."

"Well at least we know where we stand then, don't we?" Unfortunately neither man had a chance to answer since Eamon choose that particular moment to show up.

"Gentlemen, ah your Grace, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." He looked harassed, his eyes darting between the three of them. Loghain allowed himself a moment's smugness. The Arl was obviously not happy to find them alone together. "The dinner is apparently being served and my wife would never forgive me if I allowed the soufflé to collapse."

As they made their way towards the dining hall Loghain muttered just loud enough to be heard, "Soufflé, whatever happened to good old fashioned Lamb stew?"

The soufflé had not collapsed and it's surprisingly pleasant smell mingled with that of roast venison and herbs. Loghain was not a man to let an opportunity to hound shady Orlesians slip through his fingers so, as he sat down, he leaned back and gave Eamon his most penetrating stare. "So tell me Eamon, have you been much bothered by Darkspawn around here?"

Eamon sadly seemed to have recovered from his earlier fluster and shrugged. "We have had reports but to tell you the truth, it is often hard to confirm if the attacks come from wild animals like wolves or those creatures. Last winter was harsh and the villages and homesteads in the mountains suffered. Peasants can be a bit fanciful too. We had reports of a dragon a while back. Complete nonsense of course."

Turning to Duncan, Loghain said dryly, "It seems you worry for nothing."

The Warden was a picture of concern as he spoke to the Arl. "I would like to hear more about these attacks. Also, I would recommend you notify the Wardens in Denerim."

"Why not investigate them yourselves. You have travelled this far. Surely a bit further would make little difference?" Loghain pointed out mildly. Just because he despised the game of backstabbing and politics didn't mean he didn't know how to play it.

"Your Grace is wise. We will be vigilant on our way back to Montsimmard and I will write to our Fereldan Brothers ."

Loghain saw no need to hide his disdain now. "Of course, the Wardens operate across all borders with only the threat of the Blight in mind." He locked eyes with Duncan who nodded, refusing to buckle under the stare. The obvious sarcasm poured off him like water off a goose.

"That is correct."

"Please, let us not spoil the dinner with such a miserable subject." The Arlessa's voice was slightly shrill "Surely there is a better time to discuss these things, no?" Loghain groaned inwardly. It seemed his fun was over.

-ooo-

Duncan pushed the door to his room shut. "Very Orlesian, I'm so proud of you!" His voice was wry.

"Don't push your luck Ratboy." Riordan flopped down in a chair to watch his friend move restlessly around the room. After weeks of travelling food interspersed with simple Fereldan cooking at an occasional inn, the rich sauces and exotic spices of the Arl's kitchen made him feel like he'd swallowed an ox. It seemed to have done little to curb Duncan's tension though and no wonder. Had they know the Teyrn would be here they would have stayed clear of the place.

Duncan grimaced and rubbed his face. "Andrate's tits what a mess!" Loghain is the last thing we needed. I might have put the lad in danger..."

"You lied easily enough, almost believed you myself." It seemed Duncan was about to protest so Riordan pushed on. "Now what is this about Highever? I never knew you came from there."

Duncan looked taken aback. "You never asked. Why? Does it matter?" Did it? It was a strange feeling to know he might have met Duncan all those years ago. Perhaps during one of the trips to Highever market. That maybe he had glimpsed a small dark boy and instantly forgotten, not knowing how important he one day would be. Had Duncan seen him? What would he have seen? Ah, better not. Riordan shook his head.

"No, not really. I just always figured you to be a Denerim kid." The sharp look he got from the other man immediately made him feel transparent but Duncan did as always and let it pass. Instead he extracted a pack of cards from the midden on the small table by the fire.

"How about some 'Templar on Top' and shot of that local stuff you bought. We can discuss the plans for tomorrow."

Riordan snorted. "You're so screwed if you think you can drink that _and_ beat me in Templar."

"Try me."

"Right, you match me drink for drink and if you win I keep the chicken. If I win, Amaury gets to do a dragon tattoo on your ass."

"Deal!" Some of the tension seemed to leave Duncan. "Anyway, once I've talked to Eamon I need to see Alistair, maybe snoop around a bit. I thought if we split up, you could begin with the stables and I take the kitchens. Good places for casual gossip."

"So," Clearing the table Riordan tried to find a spot without clutter where to dispose of Duncan's gloves. Finally he gave up and tossed them on the floor, "let me get this straight; you get the kitchen where there is food and women not to mention drink, while I get the stables where the best I can hope for is manure and guys with pitchforks."

"My, you _are_getting wise in your old age!" Duncan sniggered.

"Screw you. Why can't I have the kitchen?"

Picking up his gloves and dropping them on the pile of gear on the bed, Duncan said, "While I reluctantly agree cooking is not my forte I think my chances are better there, even if the Arlessa seems to prefer staff as ugly as sin."

"That's not fair! When I was a kid our cook _liked_me, I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. I know the works much better than you! Still remember how to make three kinds of fruit tart." Seeing the grin on Duncan's face he added, "Of course I _will_have to kill you if you as much as breathe about it."

Still grinning Duncan tapped his mouth. "My lips are sealed. Anyway I don't know shit about horses."

"You're always ignorant when it suits you." Riordan huffed.

Reaching out with his palms turned up, Duncan gave him that wide eyed look that so didn't fool him. "Come on, it's no big deal." He wheedled, "Here, I'll let you deal the first hand, even though you always cheat."

"Fine, I'm going, but you owe me. Hand over the booze."

-ooo-

It was evident by Duncan's frown that he'd gotten nothing from his visit to the kitchens. He was however carrying something wrapped in a cloth. Riordan cocked an eyebrow at him and allowed himself a bit of vindictive smugness.

Duncan's frown deepened. "I can see you've got something, just spit it out." he grumbled.

"Found the lad, talked to him in fact."

"What? You were supposed to be discreet!"

Riordan shrugged. "There was no stopping him. He was overjoyed to have someone new to try his very old jokes on. I told him to bugger off, in Orlesian.

"Did he seem OK?"

"Shit yes, growing straight, picked up the word 'Merde' instantly. The Arl has him living in a room above the stables."

"What?"

Forestalling the explosion he saw coming, Riordan hurriedly added, "Listen. He's well liked there, better than being shunned in the castle. I'll show you if you like." As they headed for Alistair's room Duncan handed him the bundle. Riordan looked questioningly at him, he shrugged.

"Payment for doing the stables." Carefully unwrapping the cloth Riordan revealed its pleasant smelling contents.

"Very funny!"

"Don't knock it. Esme does the best apple tart I've had in a long time."

Riordan snorted. "So it's 'Esme' now. Who's she?"

Duncan's face looked far too innocent. "One of the kitchen maids. Nice girl."

"Mm, hey, this is great. Good with her mouth too?"

-ooo-

They stared at the tiny room with its whitewashed stone walls. There was a pallet, a chair and a storage chest. The sounds of the horses in the stable downstairs filtered up between gaps in the uneven floor boards. It smelt strongly of hay and the animals below. Duncan picked up one of several stone figurines neatly lined up on the chest. "I thought it was common practice to train and educate bastards of nobles almost as well as proper noble children."

"Well, the general idea is that they can be used as stand-in in emergencies."

"I suppose they couldn't possibly let anybody think Alistair might be somebody important." Duncan's voice was full of bitterness.

"Well, he's not here anyway. When I finally got rid of him he headed for the bridge." Riordan began to climb down the narrow stairs from the loft. "It's a fine day and we're right next to a big lake. If I were a kid, I know exactly where I would be." He wondered how to ease Duncan's gloom. If he knew the man right he was busily beating himself up for not doing more for Alistair. "By the way, do you know how many Orlesians it takes to..."

They found the boy by the lake playing with a group of kids from the village. Their shrieks of laughter mingled with the call of seagulls. With the sun warming his back and the wind a soft breeze on his face, Riordan was sorely tempted to join them. The boy looked no different than other kids his age although at a closer look the semblance to Maric as well as the crown prince was evident. Alistair was a darker blonde but there was no mistaking that nose, once you knew his secret. He was of medium height, a bit scrawny but no more so than other his age and he was too busy splashing around in the shallows by the shore to notice the scrutiny from the two men apparently admiring the view of the lake. Seeing Duncan's pensive look Riordan said, "He's fine, I told you."

"I'm afraid of what will become of him. He's neither here nor there. Doesn't belong here in the village and isn't allowed to belong to the castle. Eamon mentioned sending him to the Chantry, have him trained as a Templar."

"Andraste's tits! Now there's a fate I wouldn't wish on anybody. Anyway would the King allow it?"

"Maric wouldn't dare to interfere, would raise questions." Thoughtfully Duncan followed Alistair with his eyes. The boy was chasing an inflated pig's bladder into deeper water."

"I wish there was more I could do." Seeing the sad longing on Duncan's face made Riordan want to do things he really shouldn't. Instead he said,

"Perhaps watching is enough. Anything happens we'll sort something out." Riordan slapped him on the back. "We could pass him off as yours if it wasn't for that nose."

"We could pass him off as yours, only he has brains!" Duncan retorted. Even knowing it was coming Riordan failed to completely avoid a smack to the back of his head.

His purpose accomplished, he grinned unrepentantly. "Let's get the Blight out of here before Loghain decides to stop playing 'cat and mouse' and decorates the castle gates with our heads. Besides, you have a brand spanking new Amaury tattoo on your ass to collect. I so hope it will look like a deceased fucking snake."


	51. The reunion

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Many thanks to those who read and Fenzev, Jaden and Kaedwen, we both hope you know how valuable you are for keeping this story rolling!

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><p><strong>The reunion<strong>

"No no no!" Alyse resisted the tug on her arm.

"Didn't you see those guys wrestling as we rode in?"

Alyse groaned; trust Beatris to have energy enough to notice things like that even after a week on patrol. What Alyse wanted most of all right now was a hot bath, or two and a meal that didn't consist of mystery stew. "What's the rush? There's always men shoving each other around here."

"Not men like these and new faces too!"

Alyse steeled herself against her friend's eager look. "Please no! I'm tired. I just want to hit the baths and sleep for a week."

"You're getting as boring as Clarice!"

That stung. Clarice, the third of their group of junior females, was a conscripted Circle used to cry a lot, was nice but to be totally honest, not much fun to be around. "Hey! Just because I don't go uh...chasing every man I see." Clarice much preferred Beatris who was bounding with energy and whose charm where men were concerned coupled with a voluptuous body, easily negated the fact that she had a rather unfortunate face. She made a final effort.

"We've been Wardens for all of three months and you need new faces? Besides, not wanting to screw every man available does NOT automatically make me boring."

"Yes it does, now come on!" There was no breaking free of Beatris' iron grip, except by use of violence. Alyse suddenly had a vision of the two of them wrestling in the dirt as she screamed for her bath.

Sancha, a tall woman with pale freckly skin and reddish blonde hair, who had led their patrol, grinned and sounded quite smug. "New to you two perhaps."

Beatris immediately turned her attention on their leader. "You know those guys?"

"Sure, took our joining the same year. Name's Duncan and Riordan. Been lazing it in Ferelden for some time. Looks like our peaceful days are over."

"You slept with any of them?" Beatris enquired.

Alyse sucked in her breath. Sancha was their mentor; the one who got the unfortunate task of informing Alyse and those who took their Joining with her about all the nasty small print concerning what happened when you became a Grey Warden. It was her face Alyse saw when waking up from her first Taint induced nightmare and she who took them out on a bender to ease their pain when finding out that peaceful sleep in the near future was pretty much only a dream, that children were no longer an option and that in ten to thirty years or so they would all have to commit suicide by Darkspawn. She seemed easy-going but still... To her relief Sancha just laughed.

"One, and I dare you to guess who 'cause I'll never say. But I tell you this; I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get over there and get friendly? Beatris was practically bouncing. "You can introduce us can't you Sancha?"

"Dear Beatris, always biting off more than you can swallow." Amused Sancha shook her head.

"Nothing wrong with having a healthy appetite." Beatris said with a broad smile. There was a gasp from Clarice and Alyse let out an un-lady-like snort of laughter and capitulated.

"Fine, I'm coming too."

Passing through the stone arch that separated the stable yard from the training yard Alyse could hear shouting and cheering. Quite a crowd had gathered to view the spectacle of two men beating the snot out of each other. There was frantic betting going on and the master-at-arms was collecting money and barking at people to get their thumbs out of their asses before the fight finished. Beatris shoved her way over to the fence and Alyse followed in her wake. She leaned on the fence next to her friend and resigned herself to watching the two men for a while. After a few moments she began to realise what Beatris was on about.

Both men were well built in a lean kind of way and one was unusually dark. They grappled, kicked and punched in a way that suggested that rules were something that happened to other people. Alyse was no expert at unarmed combat although she and the others had received a few lessons in it already, but to her the punishing speed and agility both men displayed looked nothing short of miraculous. As one of them twisted out of a headlock she tensed. She recognised that face. To cover her distress she twisted her braid in her hand, an unfortunate habit her mother had never been able to wean her off. The fight seemed to be nearing its end since the man with the dark skin was straddling the other's chest, grinning as he wiped his bleeding mouth.

"Oh, already over!" Beatris sounded disappointed.

"Hm, I'm not so sure." Sancha smiled enigmatically. In what seemed an impossible move to Alyse, the prone man managed to twist and hook his leg across the throat of the other shoving him backwards. After that the fight degenerated into a graceless tangle of arms and legs as the men rolled in the dirt. Alyse could swear she heard one of them laugh. Finally they disentangled and lay there panting.

"You yielded!" The dark one protested as he slowly began to get up.

"I said, fuck you!"

"That's what you usually say when you yield!"

Now the man Alyse recognised rolled over and tried to stand. "I know. I'm sorry about the lip."

"Yeah, as sorry as I am about your nose." The dark one grabbed his wrist and pulled him up.

"Hey, assholes! Come here and I'll kiss and make better." Sancha shouted and waved. To Alyse's chagrin both men turned and headed towards them. They greeted Sancha with smiles and Orlesian kisses. She seemed genuinely happy to see them and beamed almost as brightly as Beatris when she made the introductions. "This is Duncan," she nodded towards the dark-skinned man before patting the other on the shoulder, "and this fellow is Riordan. Don't trust either of them." Alyse tried to keep her face averted, to no avail. The man called Riordan narrowed his eyes on her.

"The annoying girl from Jader!"

"The clumsy man!" Alyse was quite satisfied with that retort. She added politely. "I notice you haven't been practising your manners."

"I notice you haven't been using your brain."

The man called Duncan frowned at his colleague before turning his attention to her with a breath-taking smile, "You're not easy to forget. Welcome to the Wardens!" After the not so subtle dismissal from Riordan, Alyse was more than grateful for the words. Her cheeks suddenly felt hot and it was a relief when he turned to Beatris. "And you as well, I'm Duncan. Your presence enriches us; there are far too few women in the Wardens.

"I'm Beatris. You would like more women would you?" She gave Duncan a look like she was ready to lick the sweat off his body, dirt and all. Alyse gritted her teeth. How did Beatris DO that? To take her mind off the disturbing image Alyse turned to address the other man.

"No congratulations then I take it." Her chin shot up as she gave him her best withering glare.

Riordan shrugged and gingerly dabbed his bleeding nose. "I don't often congratulate people on their stupidity. But I'll make an exception for you if you want.

Duncan turned to Sancha. "We have to go and collect our profit before Roland pockets it all but we will catch you for a drink later. He and Riordan wandered off and Beatris groaned.

"I'd do either in a heartbeat."

Alyse snorted. "Weren't you doing the smith's son?"

"Hey! That was two weeks ago!" Beatris turned to Sancha. "Duncan, right?"

Sancha grinned and shook her head. "I told you already, it's your guess. See you tomorrow, target practice, don't be late."

Beatris waited until she was out of hearing. "Piss!"

"Does it really matter?"

"Nah, guess not. Why didn't you tell me you knew them?"

Alyse shrugged. "I don't know them, bumped in to them in Jader, that's all.

From the well there was a large splash followed by a surprised squawk and an angry bellow. "That's the last fucking time you do that to me!" They both turned to see the giant man called 'Runt' heave Riordan down the well whilst holding on to his legs as he shouted, "Get the water trough, quickly!" A surprising number of men jumped to their feet. Eager participants tossed water at Riordan using buckets, mugs and whatever came to hand. Duncan laughed, as he and several others dragged the trough closer.

"Don't drop him, the well is nearly empty."

"Then tell him to stop wriggling and apologize. You ready to get down on your knees yet shrimp?" The giant leaned down tilting his head as if listening. There was some muffled shouting from the well."Guess not. Give him another round, on the house."

Alyse shook her head. "I'm going to bed, you?"

"I'll stick around a bit. See if the trousers break."

"Well, good luck with that! They seem sturdy."

Beatris sank her chin in her hands, a speculative look in her eyes. "If you could have either, which would you choose?"

"Duncan naturally! The other one's a complete jerk!"


	52. The Night Patrol

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Still rolling thanks of the heroic effort of our faithful reviewers, Jaden, Fenzev, Shakespira and Kaedwen, who paves the road with their funny, thoughtful and touching reviews. :D

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><p><strong>The Night Patrol<strong>

Roland patted the bulky bandage. "There, that will hold until the healers have time for you but no moving around."

"Thanks." Duncan sat up wiping sweat off his forehead. Roland was not by any measure a gentle man and Duncan was feeling rather light headed. Awkwardly he took the canteen thrust in his face. "I know, I know!"

Turning triumphantly to Guilbert, Roland said, "Told you! Takes one hit and he gets all grumpy." The other man grinned, if a little cautiously.

"How long was I out?"

"Not long. That's a lesson in humility for you, be glad it came this cheap." A shadow that looked very much like seriousness flowed across Roland's round face and was gone. Embarrassment squirmed and settled in Duncan's stomach. Making such a rookie mistake after all these years was galling.

"Blight! I'm too used to have Riordan covering my left I didn't even think." The pathetic truth was that Duncan missed him like a lost limb. After having spent so much time together, even a couple of weeks apart felt like years. Somebody had gone and lopped off a vital part of Duncan and it left him out of kilter. In the heat of the battle he'd reached out with his Taint without thinking and found nothing there but other wardens. A Roach nearly got lucky.

"Get used to it on this trip. He's probably banging someone at the healers right now. Lucky little shit!"

"It was you who you wrenched his leg!"

"Pfft, as I see it he did it to himself. Had a perfectly good grip before he twisted. Drink again, you don't look too good." Duncan swallowed as much as he was able before lying back.

"So how long have you been doing these night patrols?"

"A couple of months. Something Mathilde came up with when Spawn became a nuisance in The Dales. Get to an infested area, light a big fire, make a lot of noise and wait to get attacked. We kill more Spawn, true, but we lose much more men than usual. The Spawn seems to have no trouble filling their ranks as we do."

"It's not actually a bad idea." Guilbert interjected quietly.

"It _is_ where _I_ am concerned." Roland glowered. "Between the darkness, flames and the bloody helmet I can't see a blighted thing. Almost made our leader a head shorter last time, or so I was _told_, since I couldn't bloody tell."

Suppressing a smile Duncan said, "No Guilbert is right, it's a good idea with the right strategy."

"Well, 'right strategy' means for me to stand my ground and kill everything that comes at me. That's what I do best. Not this stumbling around in the dark shit which Spawn do so much better anyway."

"Rogues?" Guilbert frowned thoughtfully.

"Nope, archers." The other two stared incredulously at Duncan.

"Archers, shooting into darkness?" Guilbert finally said sounding doubtful.

"Hah, yeah I'd like to see that," Roland barked, "or _not_ since it would be all black!"

"No, no." Duncan impatiently shook his head. "Riordan and I have done something similar many times, works like a charm." He continued to outline his idea to finally say, "only we can use a bigger perimeter and with a few mages we can shield the mêlée fighters as well. Roland and a few others with good plate would be the juicy raisin in the middle of the cake."

"As long as I can stand in one spot and it's perfectly clear that I kill anything, I mean _anything_ that comes within reach. If you're thinking about having Pony leading the archers, know that I'll kill him if he isn't sober, got that? Now let's see if that scratch of yours has stopped bleeding."

"Blight! What are you doing?" Duncan flinched as Roland withdrew a big wad of blood-soaked cloth from the bandage.

"Relax, I overstuffed it. It's your time to contribute. Abelard hasn't forgotten about last time but I'm sure as fuck not digging latrines anymore. You want some as well Gilly-boy?

Unfolding from his half recline next to them, Guilbert stood. "Nah, you know what the old coots says - It's a dirty job but someone has to do it!" He grinned and wandered off.

Roland tut-tutted. "Getting a little too big for his breeches the snot-nosed bastard but he's all right."

"Yes he is." Duncan frowned seeing where Roland stuffed the bloody rag. "Groin wound, really?"

"Just being versatile." Roland winked, "Besides, no one with the slightest bit of survival instinct will check there."

Grinning Duncan shook his head. "It's good to be back."

"It's good to have you back." It was said in a matter-of-fact tone that gave no room for doubt. Duncan felt slightly ashamed that he had thought so much about his own troubles and so little of Roland's.

"How are things with the Peach? If you've married her while we were away I'll never forgive you."

"Fat chance, her family hates me." Roland continued in a whiny nasal voice, "'You should find yourself a decent merchant. Not one of these crude fighting men, they lead dangerous lives and they DIIIIE'. Well her last husband croaked and _he_ was a bloody merchant!"

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. That's the blood loss talking, makes you sentimental. Anyway, I'm pretty confident. Geraldette, that's her name by the way, is a very stubborn woman and the kids love me. She'll get her way in the end."

"Geraldette? That's a very...unique name."

Roland grinned. "Why the fuck do you think I call her Peach? Here, drink some more." He waved the canteen at Duncan once again. Duncan squashed his faint twinge of envy and struggled back to a sitting position.

"There's something I have to ask you and I need a straight answer."

Roland cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sure, but I'm warning you, I'm not wasting any more breath on how to sort out your business with Riordan."

"Hah, thanks but that was not what I had in mind right now." Taking another swig from the canteen Duncan continued, "The tattoo, what's wrong with it?" Seeing Roland shoulders start to shake with suppressed laughter he pushed on. "Hey, Riordan kissed Sorry and called him beautiful. Something is seriously fucking wrong, yet the part I can see looks perfectly fine."

"Oh it is! It's..." Roland choked back laughter and dabbed at his eyes. "Pony hasn't told you?"

"No, damn you!"

"Heh, the tattoo is fine, exquisite even, it's just...Maker...!" The words trailed of in a whine as the big man struggled with his laughter.

"Spit it out!" Duncan growled.

"It looks like your dragon is frantically trying to escape 'cept its tail got caught in your butt-crack." Duncan groaned. "Cheer up, mayhaps it can be removed and if not you'll be famous with the girls at The Eel. Just promise you'll let me see it one more time before you get rid of it."

"Dream on!" Duncan leaned back against Roland's bulk and relaxed. Around him was the familiar sense of Taint from many bodies. It made him feel safe, like a wolf in a pack. For a long time it had only been him and Riordan, their own pack. Duncan smiled at the thought of a black wolf tumbling around with a grey, simultaneously baring their teeth at the sound of danger; definitely blood loss!

Roland's heavy arm settled across his shoulders. "You know," he said, suddenly sounding serious, "I love both of you so a final word of advice; if it's not happened by now it never will. You know that."

"I love you too." Closing his eyes Duncan wondered why it was so easy to say these words to Roland and so bloody hard when it really mattered. "But that sounds very close to wasting your breath again." Yet Roland was right and there were moments such as this when Duncan actually toyed with the thought that he should move on, having Riordan as no more than a perfect friend. Unfortunately it was futile; there was no room in a heart that was already full.

There had been times in the past when he had fancied himself half in love with some woman but he only had to see Riordan arguing with a merchant, concentrating on a target or simply crossing the courtyard and that was it. He was a lost cause. His limbs were growing heavy and the voices of his pack, his comrades grew distant, mingling with the soothing crackle of the camp fire. "I think I'm going to rest now."

"You do that shrimp, you do that." Roland said softly.

-ooo-

Duncan quietly closed the door shaking his head at himself. It was early morning; an Ogre could have kicked it down without waking Riordan. Sure enough, there was no reaction from the dim form outlined by the pale dawn light. Suddenly Duncan was assaulted by uncertainty. Riordan sometimes came to him at night when no amount of alcohol, women or violence was enough to lay his demons to rest. The man considered it a failure on his part. Duncan never had. He tensed as, with a sigh Riordan rolled over, one arm flung above his head, lips slightly parted. Duncan swallowed and threw caution to the wind. He shook the outstretched arm. "Hey, it's me."

Riordan turned his head. "Duncan...what the...?" His voice and eyes were blurred with sleep.

"Were you expecting someone else?"

"But why? Someone die? Don't tell me it's Roland." Riordan began to sit up so Duncan continued hurriedly,

"No, nothing like that! I've missed you that's all."

He was rewarded with a slightly fuzzy smile and to his relief Riordan moved over, making more room. "You talk too much, that's your problem."

Peeling back the blanket Duncan slipped into the warm bed. "You worry too much, that's yours." Riordan pulled him close. Duncan lay silent for a while just breathing in the smell of Riordan's hair, re-establishing their Taint connection. "I've really missed you." He could feel the other man smile against his shoulder.

"Yeah, I've missed you too. Sickening isn't it? What's this?" Fingers brushed over the bandage that still covered the almost healed wound.

Duncan steeled himself. "Took one on the left, and not a word! I simply forgot you weren't there; won't happen again I swear!"

"Great, I'm making you screw up!" Riordan scowled. "Now I have something _new_ to worry about!"

"You're not allowed! How the Blight do you think _I_ feel those moments between seeing you being carried off the battlefield and until you roll over and puke?"

"Right, I'm such a charmer." Riordan's chin tilted up in that annoyingly defiant way that said he wasn't open to _anything_ that might put him in a better light.

"Roland told me it was time I moved on."

Riordan propped himself up on his elbow. Duncan noticed that he kept his face blank and his eyes were veiled. "That's why you came; to tell me?"

"No."

"Then why? Have you been doing Smoke or something?" A small frown marred the blankness. Grabbing the back of Riordan's neck Duncan shook him. The man was as tense as a bowstring.

"Wake up! I told you already; I missed you, that's all."

There was silence as Riordan searched his face. "That's it? Blight, you scared the shit out of me there!"

Duncan pulled their foreheads together. "I hope so."

The corner of the other man's mouth twitched. "You can be a really cruel son of a bitch sometimes. I..."Loud banging on the door interrupted what he was going to say.

"RIORDAN, you lazy bastard! The entire squad is waiting for you in the yard. Get your ass moving NOW!"

Giving the door a venomous look Riordan shouted, "Coming!" He continued under his breath as he rolled out of bed, "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

"Where?"

"Some supposed Spawn-hole in the Dales!" Duncan watched with mixed emotions as Riordan struggled into his armour. "We'll likely put mortal fear into a couple of sheepherders and badgers." The words were slightly muffled since Riordan was using his teeth to undo a knot in his vambrace. Stopping for a moment, he wiggled his foot in one of the boots looking puzzled. "Blight this is your boot!" Duncan found the missing boot under the bed before standing up to help tighten the last straps of Riordan's armour.

"Stay safe, you hear me?"

"Relax, it's a stroll in the park."


	53. The fall

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Yeah, we're on a roll (nah, these chapters were almost completed earlier). Fuzzy kisses to Fenzev, shakespira, Kaedwen and Jaden (Bona fide author these days! :)

**Disclaimer:** Nah, sue me if you think I make money out of this.

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><p><strong>The fall<strong>

It wasn't the oncoming Darkspawn that caused her fall; it was the bear that came rampaging out of the bushes. Her panicked horse jerked sideways, crashing into another. Alyse tried to kick her feet free of the stirrups when the ground suddenly went from beneath the hoofs of her bolting mount and after a frantic struggle to regain footing, the beast tumbled backwards into the ravine taking her with it.

There was a terrifying heartbeat of weightlessness before the water knocked the air from her lungs and closed, cold and choking over her head. Thrashing against the pull of her leather armour she felt a moment of panic and then nothing until someone shouted in her ear and boxed her head. "Stop clinging, you'll pull us both down!" Desperately she tried to hold on, only to be shoved under the water by a fist in her hair until she almost blacked out again. "Are you listening?" the voice snarled.

They both sank beneath the surface. Invisible currents tore at her and she was sure she would drown this time when she was once more wrenched up by the same painful grip. "THIS is where you hold, nowhere else!" Her hand was forcefully clamped around a broad leather strap. She was too tired to fight anymore so she just let herself be dragged along, taking gulping breaths of air. The cold made her entire body ache and she could no longer feel her hands, she had to look to verify that she was still holding on to the strap. After a few moments she realized that the floating was easier and that her head was above water most of the time. Perhaps she would make it after all.

After what seemed like an eternity there was a tug in another direction, she went under again, panic swamped her and she began to thrash until she felt stones cut painfully into her knees. Trying to crawl into more shallow water she realised there was something horribly wrong with her left arm which refused to obey her. Her unknown saviour grabbed her and she scrambled as well as she could until she felt dry land beneath her. She vomited an ocean of water and everything went black. Persistent shaking woke her. "Stop that you beast!" She glared up into a blurry pale oval that became a face, Riordan.

"Good! Listen. I'll try to get to the horse, we need the packs. If I don't return, use your taint. If it's clear, light a fire, you should be found ... eventually."

"What do you mean, eventually?" As Alyse sat up, pain shot through her shoulder making her groan.

"It's just dislocated, won't kill you. I got to go now before the carcass floats free."

She stared wild-eyed as her colleague entered the rapids once more and disappeared around a boulder. Sitting in stunned silence shivering, she tried to comprehend she was not going to die, at least not right now. The silence seemed to last forever.

Her heart jumped with hope when she heard splashing and laboured breathing. Riordan reappeared half wading, half crawling through the shallows. Stumbling to her feet Alyse hurried to meet him. "Here, grab this; I'll wring your neck if you lose them." the man wheezed. Alyse used her good arm as well as her legs to drag the heavy wet saddlebags to safety while he got out of the water. He sank to the ground.

"Thank the Maker!" she whispered.

"Yeah, thank HIM by all means." Riordan groaned. After a while he slowly sat up taking in the surroundings. They were in a small cove carved out by the rapids; there was hard packed sand on the ground but no vegetation, no doubt the place was submerged during floods. The cliff above rose sharply, Alyse could see no way out except down the rapids and darkness was falling. "It's going to get cold. I hope you packed your tinder well." Riordan muttered as he carefully began emptying her bags.

Luck was with them. The currents had thrown up a large pile of driftwood at the far end of the cove. Alyse tried to help gathering some of it but had to give up since the pain in her shoulder spiked every time she moved. Instead she hugged her knees to her chest trying to stop her teeth from clattering. Riordan spent some time in deep concentration before starting the fire. Searching for Spawn she guessed, she wasn't very good at it herself. Once the fire was well under way she quickly moved closer. Kneeling before her Riordan said, "We have some unpleasant business to deal with before we can try to get a rest." Without preamble he began to unbuckle her armour.

"You seem quite good at this." Alyse stuttered through clenched teeth.

"You could say I've had some practice." was the wry answer. As she was carefully relieved of her wet tunic she felt she should have been more uncomfortable sitting alone with a man with nothing but the wrap across her upper body, but his quiet competence made her calm; until he ordered her to lie back.

"Why? She suddenly felt wary and vulnerable.

"Maker! I'm too tired for this. I will relocate your shoulder, or you may of course choose to keep it the way it is, it's up to you."

"Oh, very well." Embarrassed Alyse gingerly tried to relax and remain calm as Riordan sat back and put his foot against her armpit. Holding her arm firmly by the wrist he straightened it and slowly pulled, twisting it slightly. The throbbing pain spiked through her body and sweat broke out on her skin. She whimpered despite herself.

"Don't tense so much, it will be more painful." he said in a surprisingly soothing voice. "Now relax and count to five" Alyse relaxed.

"One, t ... Blight you LIAR!"

"Hah, be glad that was your first time!" Holding her arm tight to her body and bent at the elbow, Riordan helped her to sit up. She noted there was almost no pain. "Keep it that way else it might pop out again." He used her drenched shirt to strap the arm in place. Alyse was almost giddy with relief.

"What now?" she wondered.

"Now we rest. If we're lucky the fire will lead the other's to us, if we're not... well we'll see. There's nothing we can do now anyway. I give you the choice between the soaked blanket and my stinking but comparatively dry tunic for a pillow."

"Hm, the tunic I think."

"Clever, unexpected but clever!" He smiled at her for the first time but she found no particular warmth in it.

They settled down closer to the fire. Despite its heat, Alyse's back was clammy and she couldn't stop shivering. It was as if all the tension of the day's events stampeded out of her leaving her trembling in its wake, weak and sick. "I'm cold." It sounded so pathetic she almost winced. Without a word Riordan got up and lay down at her back, leaving her with the fire at her front and the heat from his body behind. She'd heard ... things about him, or rather Beatris had supplied her with them, but so far he'd surprised her by being nothing but calm and practical. Alyse had never thought sleep would be possible but the absence of pain and the warmth of the fire and the other Warden made her drowsy. "Riordan?"

"What?" The man had clearly been on the edge of sleep, now he was annoyed. Alyse braced herself. "Thanks for saving me?"

"You crowded me off the cliff. I'm no fucking hero, now shut up."

-ooo-

A bright sun woke Alyse. It filled the small cove with golden light and warmth, transforming the place. She squinted at her brother-in-distress to find him sound asleep on his stomach, his cheek pressed into the sand. Waiting for him to wake, she might as well try to make herself useful.

Testing the shoulder she found there was no pain just a slight tenderness, still, she would follow Riordan's instructions and leave it in place. She rummaged through her pack. Riordan had taken out the dried meat and hardtack yesterday; it didn't look good but at least edible. Thoughtfully she chewed a strip of meat and turned over the clothes and armour to dry in the sun. After that she examined her bow; it was ruined for now, perhaps forever. The thought made her sad; it was all she had left of her father. A movement made her turn.

"I had hoped this was a bad dream." Riordan sat up. Sand clung to the side of his face and he looked as bedraggled as she felt.

"It is. Have some meat."

He gave the sodden strip a glance. "Not until I've checked if there's something left of that horse. You're not the sensitive kind I hope."

"No, I can eat hor...se." She realised her mistake as the man began to strip and she turned away blushing furiously. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him slipping into the water. "I've seen naked men before moron!" she called after him in embarrassment and anger. She had recovered her poise when he returned, pulling a shirt trailing blood. As she took the meat she was careful not to look at him, no doubt he noted that, the bastard!" To her relief Riordan wasted no time in getting into his trousers, it WAS a small cove.

"So," he examined the extent of their belongings. "we have three daggers although those two really won't be much use. Riordan put two small, wide bladed daggers aside and continued, "a useless bow, a blanket," he paused, "and three pairs of women's underwear. That will come in handy no doubt." With her face practically aflame Alyse snatched them out of his hand and retreated.

"What's wrong with those?" She indicated the two daggers. Riordan picked one up and flipped it in his hand in a way that suggested he'd done it many times before.

"Throwing knives are useless in a melee unless you can get up close and personal without being seen."

Why would a man fighting Darkspawn carry such weapons? Again Alyse found herself wondering about the things people said about Riordan. "How bad a situation are we in?"

"Unless you know a way to make a flying carpet out of those," Riordan nodded towards the underwear Alyse held balled up against her chest, "I'd say it's pretty bad. If you had two working arms and a rope we could probably scale that cliff although with the overhang it could be tricky.

"So?"

"We could try to wait it out here, but for how long would depend on if anyone else survived. Could take two maybe three weeks otherwise and that horse won't last long."

"Are you really sure someone will search for us?" Grey Wardens were valuable to a certain point. Alyse wasn't entirely convinced they would waste weeks searching if they thought everybody lost.

Riordan nodded. "Yes, Duncan will."

"That's a lot of trust to place in one man."

The Warden just shook his head with a private smile. "You don't know him."

"So what do we do now?"

"The rapids downstream look nasty. Alone I could probably make it."

"What do you mean 'alone'?" Alyse bristled, "I'm not going to sit here like some damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. I CAN swim. Once I've rested..."

"Shut up for one moment and let me finish! To get the gear down relatively dry and you with that arm we need a raft. Except for the dagger, that bow is the only half-decent weapon we have since mine are at the bottom of the river. I suggest we leave tomorrow. The longer we linger the more likely Spawn will notice us. If you have a suggestion or objection say so but do it now, otherwise it's my call. This isn't a bloody Dwarven Assembly."

The pair spent a frustrating day building and re-building a raft. Alyse couldn't do much more than assist. In the end what they had looked mostly like flotsam from a highly organised river. After some discussion they decided to sacrifice half the blanket for the chance of getting their gear and her bow to dry land without another soaking.

"I've noticed you're quite good with that thing." Riordan offered once they had wolfed down the last of the horse meat. Alyse had been turning the bow over in her hands, again praying that it would prove serviceable. She squinted at him across the fire.

"You've been watching me?"

"Don't flatter yourself! There aren't a lot of women around the compound and you're quite striking. Of course I've watched, everyone has. Don't worry; I'm not trying to get you to spread your legs."

Alyse wondered how the man managed to say something quite flattering and still make it sound like an insult. Curious despite her best intentions she asked "Why? Do you have a wife?" This was rewarded with an amused bark of laughter.

"Now why did you make that sound so incredible? No, I don't have a wife, but lookersmake rotten bed partners, so you have nothing to fear from me." She couldn't decide whether to laugh or hit him, she opted for the former,

"Are you telling me I'm a lousy lay, without even KNOWING me?"

"Easy now," Riordan raised his hands in a placating gesture, "there could be one or two exceptions I'm sure. I'm just talking from experience."

"Meanwhile you're the Maker's gift to women right?" Alyse shot back.

He rolled his eyes. "Right, that's why I have failed to catch a wife. Get some sleep, or at least let me get some." The man lay down turning his back at her.

"How can you dismiss somebody out of hand like that?" Alyse wasn't ready to close the argument just yet.

"Why did I open my mouth?"


	54. The road

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. A sprinkle of Andraste's ashes on our revievers, Fenzev, Shakespira and Jaden. :D Without further ado:

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><p><strong>The road<strong>

For a few breathless heartbeats Riordan allowed himself to just lie there, staring up at the sky as water drained off him into the ground. Next to him Alyse moaned. "Let's not do that again." In this he was quite happy to oblige, he'd had enough of being tossed around in rapids like a leaf in a storm. The strong current had carried them further down the river towards east than he'd hoped. It was far from over yet. The terrain here was rough and with Spawn crawling all over the place going would be slow. It seemed for bloody once the reports had been correct, just his luck.

They scrambled up the cliff that towered over them to get a better look at the lay of the land. "Makers breath!" Alyse breathed as she saw the waterfall below. Watching the masses of water cascading into the gorge, Riordan could do nothing but silently agree. It was beautiful and terrible. He could feel mist on his face and the roaring was so loud he had to shout to make himself heard.

"We were lucky!" The moment he spoke he felt the familiar itch at the back of his neck. He raised his head to catch it better. "Luck's out!"

"Spawn?" the woman mouthed. He nodded dragging her away from the ledge.

"Yes, but distant and moving away." Riordan grabbed the saddlebags. "Let's get going before they sense us. The homesteads here are few and far between. We might find a shepherd's hut if we are lucky but my guess is that we're camping out."

The response was less than enthusiastic. "Great."

-ooo-

After days of wandering, the shortage of food combined with the climbing where Riordan often had to do the same route twice, once for Alyse and once for the packs, put a serious damper on their mood. No matter how many scree filled rocky slopes they traversed there seemed to be yet another ahead and several times they had to double back to avoid Spawn. The cold night watches frayed his temper further but there was simply no way he would trust the woman's newly formed Spawn senses. The few times he managed to snatch some sleep she seemed to wake him instantly, haunted by Taint dreams. Sometimes he wished he'd let her drown.

"I wish my arm would bloody work!" Alyse sighed as Riordan passed her a hardtack. His feeble attempts at hunting had born no fruit so far. There just wasn't time to carefully stalk a prey and whilst he was a good archer he wasn't good enough to take down something as small as a bird by taking random pot shots at it. "I used to go hunting with my father; he's the one who taught me archery." There was a sad longing in her voice that grated on him.

"Did I ask for your life's story?" he snapped. She had been rather placid so far so it took him completely by surprise when she suddenly turned to yell at him.

"Did I ask you to come after me? Did I ask for my shoulder to dislocate? Nobody forced you to help me!" She dissolved into tears. He itched to slap her; instead he turned away, leaving her crying. Perhaps that made him a better man than his father, or perhaps it was simply that he was too tired to rape her. Exhaustion made him sit down before he got far. Burying his head in his hands he tried to make his mind go blank. It was no bloody use. Without thinking his hand went to his, no_Duncan's_ amulet. _'So I've screwed up again, perhaps you know by now. There isn't much chance we'll make it. Yes, I'll do my bloody best but I have to tell you I'm not optimistic. I wish you were here, or I don't. Andraste's tits, I can't even think straight anymore.'_ He released the amulet feeling slightly embarrassed. Groaning he called on his reserves and slowly went back. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm awfully bloody sorry." The woman paid him no heed but curled up tighter around her misery. "I'll leave if you want, just say the word." All he got was a new burst of tears. He felt ashamed, she was surely as tired as he was and truth be told, had born the hardship better than most. Carefully he sat down at her side.

"I'm useless!" The words bubbled out of her with the tears.

"I left because I'm an asshole." He swallowed. "Stop crying, please." He couldn't have been more surprised had she slapped him in the face when she threw her arms around him. At a loss for what to do he awkwardly hugged her back. There was simply no understanding women. Half in fear that letting go would start a new flood of tears, he kept holding her until she suddenly hissed, "Don't move!" He tensed and tried to figure out where he had gone wrong. She was leaning past him and suddenly made a violent move.

"YES!"

Riordan twisted, he could hardly believe his eyes, she had brought down a coney. He launched himself at it to finish it off, just in case. That startled another, and Maker be damned if she didn't hit that one as well. Triumphantly he brandished them to her. "I can't believe it. You're a fucking beauty!"

Her face was still puffy and blotchy from crying but she smiled tremulously. "Choose your insults more carefully after this. You're much bigger than a rabbit."

He grinned back. "Oh I will!" Quickly he skinned and gutted the conies, tossing her the livers which she immediately ate without grumbling. It seemed she at least had SOME sense. When he was done she gave him a smile that could kill a man.

"Now, hand them over. I'm not having you destroy them."

"I'm perfectly capable." he protested.

"That's not good enough, they are mine!" The glare she gave him was fierce. With some trepidation he handed them over. He could see her watching him closely. "Get some rest. I'll wake you when it's ready." He hesitated and from her next words he guessed she had noticed. "I share fair, trust me."

"I do. Thank you." He lay down and the last thing he remembered was that Duncan had said the very same words once. That time Riordan's reply had not been a lie.

-ooo-

Alyse shook her companion harder. She felt almost sorry but she reckoned he needed food more than sleep. "Dinner's ready." she announced watching him sit and brush the hair from his face. "Here." She presented him with one of the coneys.

"Thank you." He took a bite and his face lit. "This is good! Fantastic actually."

"Told you so!" She grabbed the other, maybe a bit too quickly. "You're welcome by the way. It's flavoured with wild thyme."

Riordan spoke, his mouth full of food, "I swear you're bloody marrying material."

She laughed then, suddenly feeling much lighter. "If you're going to propose you're wasting your breath, I'm too good for you." He grinned at her between bites.

"Ha, so there's a brain in there after all."

"Bah, you are an ignorant fool." Alyse huffed. "Also, you have an Orlesian accent, not my thing." That seemed to catch him off guard.

"What? I have not!"

"You so have!" She smirked feeling smug.

That night they found an abandoned shepherds hut and Riordan sensed no Spawn. Perhaps they would both get a decent night's sleep. Alyse reached out for the half blanket he handed her and hesitated. It hardly seemed fair. "We can share it, if you want."

"Thank you, but I'm fine."

"Do you find it hard to lay close, I mean...without, you know...?" Blight now she was NOT thinking about food. Instead IT crossed her mind. He would think she was hitting on him and she certainly wasn't.

"No. I feel like I've spent half my life crowding Duncan and I don't fuck him do I?"

"You might for all I know."

"Well, we don't. Take my word for it, or bloody don't. I don't care either way."

"Maker, you laying on a burr or something? Alyse rearranged her sorry excuse for a pillow. Fine, be like that then."

-ooo-

The nights turned even colder bringing with them a smell of frost, yet they didn't always dare to light a fire, light travels far in the mountains after dark. Sitting shivering underneath the blanket, reluctant to endure more Taint dreams, Alyse asked, "How long have you been a warden?"

"Feels like forever, but what is it now, eight years, nine?" Riordan seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts. Leaning against him for warmth, she could feel him tilt his head back and look up at the stars that shimmered across the black sky as if they could provide the answer.

"You were pretty young when you joined then?" He still seemed quite young to her but there were times when he made her feel like a naive child. Nearly ten years, she thought and if he's lucky he'll live another twenty but probably less. She could outlive him by many years. Suddenly it bothered her

"Most of us are, aren't we? Young and stupid." His arm came up shaking her by the neck. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Why did you join?"

"None of your business, you?" The wry voice took the edge of the words.

"My parents died. I was alone and I had to go somewhere." she offered.

He snorted. "So you thought joining the Wardens would be a great idea?"

"Why not, I had nothing else. I had a brother once but he died."

"That's what happens to family sometimes. It's not always a bad thing either." He became very quiet and she was afraid she had offended him in some way.

-ooo-

While the nights were cold the days in The Dales were still hot. The climbing made it no better. They stopped for a breather and to refill the canteen. Once he had reassured himself that there were no Darkspawn nearby, Riordan unbuckled his leather armour and stripped off. Alyse did the same and then watched enviously as his tunic followed. She wondered idly what he would do if she did the same. Sourly she came to the conclusion that he probably wouldn't even notice.

Distracted from this particular thought she watched Riordan squat by the small stream to splash water on his neck and arms. He stood and turned. As he straightened she found her eyes following the dark line of hair that ran from his navel down his flat abdomen. Horrified she realised he was watching her. To cover her embarrassment she said, "Your tattoo is er...cute."

There was a snort. "Nice try."

She wondered if he'd recognised where her eyes had lingered, the beast! She fixed her eyes on a particularly nasty scar. "You've seen a lot of battle."

"My share, scars aren't exactly a sign of success you know."

"That you're alive is though, isn't it?"

"It could also mean I'm clumsy but lucky, I'm sure I got a few from shaving like anyone else. Or that I've been around a lot of bad healer's, or none. The good one's don't leave scars, most of the time." He wandered over and sat down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.

"That one," she indicated a dent in his bicep, "where did you get that?"

He smiled. "Ah that was Duncan actually."

"Duncan?" she said incredulously. "You're having me on?"

"No, but the fault was mine more than his." She tried to imagine the Warden, taking a knife to his friend, she couldn't. As if reading her mind Riordan said. "We haven't always been on friendly terms."

"And that one." She nearly prodded the intricate pink web of lines on his underarm but stopped herself.

"Ha! I took a fall, landed in a fire." He stood and rolled his shoulders.

Her eyes travelled down his back. "That scar at least must be a sword."

"Since when did I grow eyes in the back of my head? Stop ogling me and get on your feet." He scooped up his tunic.

"I wasn't ogling!" she objected, cheeks aflame.

"No? Don't worry, the next village may hold an unsuspecting fresh-faced lad you can try your wiles on instead."

"I hate you." she muttered.

-ooo-

Next day they came across a small farmstead. To Alyse it was as welcome as the city of Denerim itself. The people living there didn't have anything in the way of arms to offer, at least nothing better than Alyse's partially destroyed bow, but in exchange for coin they gave them food, another blanket and an offer to sleep in the barn, 'For yourself and the missus'.

With her belly full of stew and freshly baked bread Alyse felt she could take on an army of Spawn, laughing all the way. The prospect of a night's sleep in relative safety behind the palisades of the farm was also beckoning with welcoming arms. It almost made her too elated to sleep.

"Did you notice the daughter?" Alyse asked mischievously as they bedded down in the hay.

Riordan grinned. "I did! That one could send a man to oblivion and back eight days in a week, take my word for it. I think she even had a hump." He lay down on his side and winked at Alyse. "Mind you I'm not sure my theory holds for men, but if it does, that farmhand..."

"Maybe they are married." Alyse giggled.

"Maybe they are, lucky bastards." For a long while she lay listening to the sounds of the night and Riordan's slowing breathing as disquiet settled in her body. She thought about how his hands felt when he was steadying her on the raft and of the map of old violence on his naked body.

"But you wouldn't want to bed _me_." she bit her tongue, "assuming I would agree, of course."

"Are you out of your mind? Go get uglyface!" he murmured sleepily, "I'm a lousy lay too." She regarded his face in the pale moonlight. His eyelashes were very long and completely straight, just like her own.

"Yes, horrible no doubt."


	55. The End of The Road

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Jaden, Fenzev, Shakespira and Kaedwen -'Le Love' :D

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><p><strong>The End of The Road<strong>

With a grim look on his face Riordan dropped their packs on the ground. He scanned the surroundings as he wiped sweat out of his eyes. Cliffs rose steep and jagged behind them and in front there were only grassy undulating moorland with the occasional bush and withered tree. Right before them it dipped into a shallow valley. "The Spawn will get to us before the Wardens. This is the best place to hold out that I can see." Alyse tried to catch her breath and felt her stomach clench sickeningly. "Now get up that tree and find a good place where you can still get a clear shot." Riordan leant his back against the trunk and cupped his hands to help her up.

"You'll get killed down here." she protested

He gave her a wry smile. "I'm not that easy to finish off. Besides I'm counting on you."

"I'm not that good." She felt wretched and her eyes burned. After all they had been through...

Regarding her impatiently he barked, "Enough, you have work to do!" Again he held out his hands, this time she let herself be hoisted into the air. When she looked down at him he looked back almost earnestly. "The others will come; we just have to hold out for a little while. Duncan is with them."

"I thought you said you couldn't tell them apart."

"Only Duncan." He closed his eyes briefly and after a moment she saw some of the tension leave him.

"What, what is it?" she couldn't keep from asking, her voice shrill with fear.

A faint smile flickered over his face and was gone. "I'm giving him a headache." His head whipped around. "They're here! How many arrows do you have?"

Alyse could see dark shapes moving through the dry grass. The Spawn made no attempt at hiding but why would they, there were so many of them and she and Riordan were exhausted. They were so close to the lowlands, so close and yet, it seemed, not close enough. Bitterly she wondered if these were the same Spawn they had sensed on and off throughout this desperate journey. "Um...twelve."

"Make them count. The first Spawn I want down is the closest one with a sword, I'll need it."

"Right." Squinting against the sun Alyse settled herself with her back against the tree trunk. Her hands were slick with sweat and her heart hammered almost painfully in her chest. She notched an arrow whilst trying to calm her breathing.

"If I fall, get the Blight to the top. With luck you should be able to hold them off long enough for Duncan to reach you."

"Unless they are ranged." She croaked. There was a roaring in her ears, almost loud enough to drown out the snarls and grunts from the enemy.

There was a short harsh laugh from below. "Unless they are ranged. Happy hunting Sister!"

Alyse could barely whisper the reply. "You as well Brother."

She heard the distinct twang of a crossbow and cursed under her breath trying to ignore it, instead aiming at a Bugeye with a sword. A quarrel narrowly missed Riordan who ran forward, dodging and weaving. Her target roared but the sound ended in a gurgle as her arrow pierced its neck.

Eleven...

It tumbled forwards and Riordan simply dove snatching the sword out of its hand, rolled and ended up on his feet. Another quarrel clipped his shoulder as he jammed his dagger in the leg of a Roach. Frantically Alyse searched for the archers and spotted a Roach crouching in the grass, raising its crossbow. Rushing too much to catch it before it fired, she missed.

Ten...

She sobbed a curse and slammed another arrow on the bow forcing herself to aim carefully. The Roach fired just as she let the arrow fly.

Nine...

She thought she heard Riordan grunt but even as she notched another arrow she caught a glimpse of him slashing the throat of a Bugeye almost in passing before sliding the sword under the guard of another. Spotting one of the archers, Alyse turned and aimed, gritting her teeth against the sense of urgency.

Eight...

She wanted to shout in frustration as her next arrow skimmed past a Bugeye with an axe.

Seven...

Its head whipped around towards where she was sitting and it howled as it began to run in the direction of the tree. An arrow took it down.

Six...

Draw, aim, don't look for him, concentrate, do your thing. Riordan was suddenly spinning into her field of vision, moving so fast he was little more than a blur. The sun glinted off the dull metal of his sword as it cut across the neck of another Roach. Keeping the momentum he swung out at the next monster with his dagger, making it leap back. Alyse fired twice in quick succession, taking down two trying to flank him.

Five, four...

She tried desperately to ignore the creatures closing in on the tree and aimed at a Bugeye running at Riordan who seemed to sense its approach. He kicked a Roach hard on the knee before turning on this new attacker. Alyse fired. It was close, too close and she saw Riordan's head jerk as her arrow skimmed past him and slammed into the Spawn.

Three...

There was a shout somewhere further away and Alyse almost sobbed, more enemies were the last thing they needed. Blinking away tears of fear and frustration she fired and missed then fired again. Another went down almost at Riordan's feet.

Two, one...

Riordan twisted and spun, never standing still. He seemed to fight as much with his body as with his weapons. But there were so many enemies, too many... Alyse raised her bow taking careful aim at a large Bugeye with a two handed sword. As the last of her arrows landed quivering in its eye, she let out a breath and took in the entire scene for the first time.

The grass in front of the tree was trampled and stained with blood; the stench of it clogged the back of her throat. There seemed to be bodies everywhere. Now she would climb down and join Riordan, order or not, screw them anyway! She felt strangely invigorated by her decision. Riordan ran through another Spawn, kicked it off the sword and turned, only to find himself alone. The Spawn were retreating, no, they were drawn to a new source of enemies. A score of horsemen were pouring in to the valley.

After taking a few breaths trying to catch up with the notion that she might make it out alive, Alyse shakily slid down from her perch. Riordan staggered over to lean against the tree trunk before sinking down with his back against the bark, breathing heavily. Staying on her feet Alyse got a better view of the Warden's charge. It was beautiful. The riders swept the enemies out of the way like a wave pushing aside flotsam. More Spawn appeared behind them and joined their ilk in the battle but the Wardens seemed unstoppable. She glanced towards her companion to share her elation. He was covered in gore and clutching at his right side as blood flowed thick and fast through his fingers. There was a smile on his face as he looked past her.

"Maker, I'm sorry!" Alyse sank to her knees and pressed her hands against his to stop the flow.  
>Annoyed he swatted them away. "Blight, don't! I swear you're even worse than Duncan. Just leave it! There's bound to be a healer somewhere down there."<p>

"If you're really sure..." She regarded her sticky red hands doubtfully. "Sorry about the ear by the way."

As if regretting his earlier harshness, Riordan slipped an arm behind her back and gave her a squeeze. "Don't be, that was a great shot."

Giddy with relief she leaned her head against his shoulder. "We made it, I never thought we would."

He smiled. "For a while there, me neither. You did well."

"Really? You're not just saying that to be nice?"

This time he laughed out loud, the sound petered out in a grunt of pain. "You don't know me very well, do you? You did great and if I ever feel the urge to reduce my number of ears, I'll let you watch my back. He turned back to follow the battle. "Ah, he brought Amaury!" She must have looked completely blank. "The butterflies." Riordan waved at the colourful clouds that descended on several Spawn. "Duncan hates them but they are lethal. He's a good healer too. Now relax."

It was a perfect moment. As the tension left Alyse, exhaustion caught up making her almost drowsy. She turned to smile at Riordan but her smile faltered at the sight of him greeting the only one he'd been following with his eyes since the horses crested the hill. "Took your bloody time," he said with a grin.

"Didn't want to spoil your fun." A dark face was split in an answering grin. Duncan slid gracefully off his horse. Both beast and man were spattered with Spawn blood. He squatted next to them waving impatiently at another man approaching. With a twinge of abandonment Alyce felt Riordan's arm move from her back to hug Duncan hard but briefly.

The second man, a mage judging by the staff he carried, sat down beside them, flexing his fingers. "Good to see you again Riordan, Vittorio said you were dead for sure." His hands began to pulsate with green light.

"Not half as glad as I am to see you. Joy should cross fortune telling from his competence list and add accident prone." Some of the strain left Riordan's face and was replaced by fatigue as the mage's hands touched his side and the glow spread across his midriff. Duncan helped him to settle back.

After a while the mage straightened. "There! I've fixed the leaks, I think."

"You think?" Duncan growled, making the man's eyes dart nervously to him.

"Ah, why don't I double-check?"

Riordan shook his head. "You worry too much! Toss us some food instead will you." Duncan rose to rummage in his saddlebags before handing Alyse a sack of rations that made her mouth water. She found some smoked mutton and tried not to wolf it down too quickly in front of the others. Riordan grabbed a piece of dark travelling bread.

With a look of concern Duncan turned his attention on her. "I'm sorry, I should have checked. Are you hurt?"

"No, no I'm fine. He kept me safe" Riordan looked everything except well but he managed a wry grin.

"You heard that? I kept the lady safe."

Duncan smiled back. "That will be the talk of the mess for weeks."

"Don't I bloody know it! Probably have to bounce some virgins at the Chantry to re-establish my reputation." Alyse felt an unexpected stab of jealousy.

The mage rose. "Done! Fire, right?"

Duncan nodded. "Yeah, but none of your fancy stuff."

"Aww, sometimes you're such a kill-joy." Turning to Riordan the mage grumbled, "Between you and me, take him down a notch. He's been like a demon with two pokers up his arse since you were reported missing."

There was a pained, "Amaury!" from Duncan.

Pouting Amaury retreated while Duncan turned his attention back to Riordan. "We WILL discuss this later you little shit. Runt is also anxious to get his hands on you. I thought he would wreck the stables when I told him he would slow us down." He looked around. "I don't like this valley; it's perfect for an ambush. After some rest, can you manage to double on my horse?

Riordan nodded taking another bite of bread. "We've been sleeping on the ground for a fortnight; your back will seem like a feather-bed." Seeing the familiarity between the two men, Alyse felt another twinge of jealousy. She hadn't missed the look in Riordan's eyes when they met Duncan's. It had been one of perfect trust and something else she was not ready to recognise. She concentrated on her food until a shower of purple stars shot to the sky and Duncan to his feet roaring,

"AMAURY! For the love of the Maker! He turned back to Riordan and crouched, shaking his head. "One day I will kill him."

"No you won't but do me a favour and slap him silly." With a gesture she could only call tender, Duncan pushed the other man's hair behind his ear. It seemed an odd thing for men like these.

"You look terrible." He said softly.

He got a crooked smile in return. "Thank you. You don't look too good yourself." Alyse had the distinct feeling she was missing half of the conversation. "Get your men in line, we'll be ready." As Duncan stood to leave, Alyse knew she _had_ to ask him. She'd tried so hard not to think about it all through the journey but it couldn't be put off any longer.

"Please..." She desperately needed to know but dreaded the truth all the same. "My friends...who came back?" The vague look of impatience on Duncan's face softened to one of sympathy and he crouched before her.

"Who were your friends?" he asked gently. Ridiculously his kindness made it even harder to control her fear.

"Sancha our leader and Clarice, but there were others..." She whispered. Duncan nodded with a smile but his dark eyes were sad when he said,

"Four returned and reported your disappearance. Sancha was one and I believe Clarice was with them too." Alyse wanted to laugh with relief but something, some tension she had not been aware of, just snapped then and all she got was a shuddering breath. Duncan's smile grew warmer and he reached out, gently brushing an escaped tear off her cheek. "You will soon meet them again, I promise." With that he stood and strode off.

Wiping her face she watched Duncan head for the other Wardens. "He's quite ...imposing, isn't he?

Riordan took another half-hearted bite from his bread and smiled. "That's one way of putting it. We..." he shook his head, "never mind. Get some rest; you're safe now he's here." She could tell he was struggling to stay awake but was reluctant to take his eyes of the scene.

Floating in renewed relief Alyse said, "I think we did pretty well."

"Shows how much you know. Get some rest while you can." Riordan added in a gentler tone, "Everything's fine."

Alyse waited until she was sure Riordan was asleep before plucking the bread out of his hand. She ate only a small part before stowing away the rest. You never knew and she _was_ fair in sharing. Afterwards she curled up at Riordan's side. Just let him try fobbing her off on someone else before they were back behind walls. For nearly two weeks the sound of his heartbeats, his breathing, had been the sound of life and security. There might be a dozen Wardens down in that valley, but she trusted only one to keep her safe.


	56. The Eel

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. As always, love to Fenzev, Jaden, Shakespira and Keadwen. Your comments makes this story wastely better, and longer I fear...;)

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><p><strong>The Eel<strong>

After a wash and downing one of Amaury's famous hangover remedies, Duncan felt slightly better, SLIGHTLY! Groaning he leaned over to pull on his boots.

"That will teach you not to drink anything Morholt recommends." came a hoarse voice from across the room. Duncan glared at the bed where Riordan was carefully lowering his feet to the floor. Last night had been filled with drunken confessions about fear, incertitude and longing on both sides. Duncan had woken up with his face wedged beneath Riordan's jaw. Now he felt kind of embarrassed. Luckily they had both been too sloshed to make much sense. They had fallen asleep as soon as they crashed onto the bed which Duncan suspected all in all wasn't a bad thing.

"Guess you're the expert." he groused.

"Where did you get those guys from Jader anyway? Mutt-face is usually only on the loose when the guards in solitary forgets to lock the cells."

"Mathilde said I could only take people stupid enough to volunteer, they volunteered! Actually the dwarf was very concerned about your well being."

"That's because I owe him money and Mutt-face was the one who broke my nose, again. Of course, then I broke his. After that we came to an understanding. I could have tried to sweet-talk him instead I guess... " There was something in the tone of Riordan's voice that made Duncan pause to glance at him. He had markings from the sheet on his face. The eyes were swollen with sleep and his hair was a snarled mass. Duncan had never found him more desirable. He moved to stand in front of the other man. Shaking his head he reached out to muss his hair ever further.

"You're rambling."

"Don't I fucking know it?" Suddenly Riordan buried his face against Duncan's stomach hard enough to make him wince. It was a strange moment leaving Duncan lost for words; all he could think to say was,

"Hey, I'm just going to the Val. It's a stroll in the park." Riordan fell back on the bed and the moment was lost.

"Of course. Better get going then."

Even more confused, Duncan withdrew and began to put on his armour. As he adjusted the last of his buckles he said. "Try to be a bit nicer to Alyse, she has taken a shine to you." Andraste's tits, why had he said that? Was he intent on ruining everything this morning?

"Blight, I'll be nice to the woman if it pleases you." Riordan muttered sourly. "You want me to fuck her too? Sure, no big deal."

Ill at ease Duncan assembled the last of his gear. "I wish I didn't, but I really have to go. This is my opportunity to push my ideas concerning the night raids as well. We'll talk more when I get back." He tried to catch the other man's eyes but Riordan was facing away.

"It's all we ever do these days; wish each other a safe journey."

"Duty's a bitch." The words sounded hollow even as Duncan said them.

"Yeah, by all means, let's not forget duty."

"Riordan, I..."

The man cut him off without turning. "Stay safe, that's enough for me. Just stay safe." Again Duncan was at a loss for words. Anything he said right now would probably be wrong anyway.

"I will." He glanced one last time at the figure on the bed, Riordan didn't look back.

-ooo-

Remaining on the bed Riordan listened to the sounds of the Wardens assembling. There was Duncan's voice, brisk and down-to-earth and Guilbert's reply, quiet and to the point. No instructions necessary. Good man Guilbert. Riordan turned his face towards the ceiling as the men moved out. He imagined Duncan anxiously sizing up his horse before mounting. The thought made his mouth twitch. He rubbed his face before spreading his arms wide. This was stupid. What had he expected; really? That Duncan would say 'Sod this!' and stay? That was beyond childish.

There was a gaping hole in Riordan's soul now that had to be filled. With Duncan gone what was his agenda? 'Be nice to the woman.' Right! Was it his fault she'd latched on to him? He liked her well enough and she was a beauty to booth. Surely she would have no trouble finding a better man. They had shared hard times true but those times were gone. The sooner she snapped out of it, the better, for her and for him. Why was Duncan even moaning about it? Was he wondering if he could have her?

Closing his eyes, Riordan recalled the feeling of Duncan' body against his face, the scent of him... and just like that he was bloody done for. He had a choice between having a quick one off the wrist right now or get to the Eel and do it inside a whore. He preferred a whore, at least when she was better than him but it was a bit early. He should hit the practice field. Grabbing Duncan's amulet he held it for a few moments. Nothing of course. Fuck practice! He felt rotten enough to get back to sleep, the rest could wait. Moving his feet he noticed he had one boot still on, never mind.

-ooo-

Alyse wasn't sure why she had let herself be talked into to visiting this place, it was obviously a brothel. However, she was very glad she wasn't sober, that gave her an excuse for following Beatris all the same. She really liked the woman, her laid back attitude and her total disregard for what was considered appropriate, but sometimes it was a bit much for Alyse to stomach.

The taproom was noisy, crowded and smelled of cheap perfume, ale and sweat. With a sinking feeling Alyse saw that it also was full of altogether far too many familiar faces. "Woops, more Wardens than I expected." her friend murmured as if pleased. Alyse found it rather embarrassing that so many of her colleagues would see her in a place such as this. She was also already beginning to feel crowded, as if the sheer amount of people somehow diminished her and she ran the risk of disappearing altogether.

"Clarice said this wasn't a proper place for women." she said hesitantly, immediately hating herself for sounding like a prude. She wasn't sure she approved of the fact that some places were not 'proper' for women.

"Don't give me that crap." Beatris snapped. "Besides, we're not women, we're Wardens. It would do Clarice a world of good to remember that sometimes."

"Hey, I like Clarice!" Alyse objected.

"So do I. Next time we make her come too."

"I'm not sure that's the solution..." Alyse began.

"Over there, there's Runt!" She found herself dragged towards a table where the Warden Roland was sitting like a man mountain, dwarfing several other wardens she was vaguely acquainted with. They appeared engrossed in an argument about whether Dragonbone armour was truly superior to Silverite. As she and Beatrice approached they were greeted with genuine surprise and plenty of awkwardness. One of the wardens had a girl on his lap and looked like he was contemplating shoving her off him as he glanced worriedly at Beatris settling down next to him. "Don't mind us; we're just two of the boys." Beatrice beamed in his direction. The man flinched at that and suddenly looked down at his hand resting on the girl's thigh, he jerked it back as if he'd been burned.

The Warden Roland gave them a thoughtful look but refrained from speaking. One of the younger wardens winked at Beatris and signalled for more ale. Embarrassed silence settled over the group. The warden who had ordered the ale, Alyse thought his name was Bertrand, seemed the only one, except for Roland, who wasn't bothered by their presence. He grinned at Beatris. "You do know they don't have male whores here, don't you? Beatris smiled and leaned forward.

"Well that begs the question, what are you doing here?" There was scattered laughter and some of the tension eased. The serving wench arrived with the ale and Alyse took hers gratefully. As she sipped it and looked around her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure descending the stairs. Her heart plummeted into her stomach and she watched as Riordan ambled towards them. He straddled a bench and leaned his back against the wall, cocking a questioning eyebrow at her. She could feel herself bristle and tried hard to hide it. Instead she tried her own brand of casual and said, "From what I've heard I didn't expect to find you upright". Riordan grinned unrepentantly.

"Been watching me? I find myself wondering why?"

Alyse blustered as her cheeks grew hot. "It's rather hard to avoid. Everyone seems to think that we are some kind of buddies now."

He shrugged. "Well, we are aren't we? And you may tell THEM that I'm a reformed man. Being around Duncan does that to you."

"That's a nicer way of saying you're fucking him." The handsome Antivan Alyse knew as Vittorio, shot across the table as he seated himself. Riordan smiled rather maliciously leaning in.

"Don't be jealous sweet Joy. I have offered to tumble you many times, but you always chicken out."

"Cunt!"

Riordan leered and raised his mug in a toast. "See, we can have a polite conversation these days, that's the kind of man I've become!"

Alyse couldn't resist a smile before glancing around the room. "So where is Duncan anyway?"

"Oh, off to the Val." Riordan shrugged. When the order needs to impress the powers that be, they wave Duncan around. If that fails they just throw Roland at them. Usually shuts them up." He was interrupted by a woman plopping herself down on his lap. Her profession was made apparent by the clothing she wasn't wearing.

"I think you forgot something." She smiled coyly from under kohl rimmed eyelashes.

"Ah, yes, sorry ..., here! He slipped some coins into her hand."

"Thank you sweetheart and this time don't forget to pay Bregin as well." The woman grabbed his chin playfully.

"Don't get mad Mariotta. Why don't I just give you the money now and you pay Bregin, just in case." Riordan offered.

"I don't know why I put up with you!" She simpered at him.

Riordan snorted. "Because it's your job love." As she slid off his lap he gave her a slap on the rump and grinned as she laughed and swatted him on the shoulder.

"She's robbing you blind!" Roland pointed out when the woman had left.

"I know, but believe me, she's worth every penny."

"That's how reformed you are?" Alyse scoffed.

"I'm SITTING at a table, not lying under it. I count that as a major improvement."

"Pah! A swine that has learned to jump through hoops is still a swine." Vittorio quipped.

To Alyse's astonishment Riordan laughed with the others before responding.

"That was actually very witty, I love it! In fact I think I'll make it my personal motto. And here I thought you were good for nothing except wanking."

"Riordan, we have women here." Roland objected drying tears of mirth from his eyes.

"We're not women, we're Grey Wardens. Name is Beatris and the one with the red face is Alyse."

Roland eyed Beatris' ample bosom which threatened to escape her tunic. "Could have fooled me." he muttered.

"Ah Beatris! Then you are coming with me to The Roads the end of this week." Riordan butted in cheerfully.

"I am?"

"Yes, got the order this morning."

"Recruits again?" Roland wondered.

"No. It's one of the 'I have obtained a secret map to fabulous riches in a long forgotten corner of the Roads. Send some of your Wardens to get it and I'll lick your ass forever' jobs." Riordan drawled. "I'll lead us around a bit, splat some Spawn, then come back and be told I'm incompetent since no one will ever admit that they've been conned."

Roland nodded in sympathy. "The rotten way of the world."

Riordan took another draught. "I don't know why you are smirking Vittorio since you're coming too and you know that if I get the chance, I'll shift the blame on you and I'm going to make it stick so hard you'll have to rip your skin off to clear your precious name."

The Antivan's face darkened. "I hear you."

"I'm looking forward to travel with you." Beatris studied Riordan appreciatively and somehow managed to put a world of innuendo into those innocent words. Riordan leaned forward planting his elbows on his knees and eyed the woman with sudden interest.

"You are? Then I hope you are a better rider than your friend here." He nodded to Alyse. Beatris reached forward and patted Riordan on the knee. A wide smile split her face in half.

"Yes Warden, I think you will find me an excellent rider if you give me the chance." Alyse tried not to gape at the blatant suggestiveness. Riordan smiled, casting a meaningful glance at Alyse.

"I'm sure I will." The ale stuck in her throat. A burning hurt lanced through her chest and she couldn't breathe. All she could think of was that she needed to get away from here, now! She clung desperately to self-control, calmly put her mug down and stood. "Excuse me, I..." She couldn't think of anything to say so she simply turned and walked away. The crowd jostled her and the warm damp air made her feel dizzy. By the time she reached the door she was almost running and she stumbled out into the cool night.

The noise of the taproom was abruptly cut off as the door shut behind her. For a few moments she just stood there breathing deeply, her head tilted back as a soft drizzle settled on her hot face. It just wasn't fair! She'd shared so much with Riordan and nothing would ever come of it. But Beatris who didn't know him at all, for her it was so easy. It was so obvious what would happen and the thought hurt more than Alyse had expected. 'Too pretty!' Maker what a joke. She hadn't even realised she cared that much, until now. She rubbed her damp face. The door opened behind her so she hurried off, not wanting to meet anybody. "Are you all right? You shot out like an oiled Nug." Riordan called behind her. Any other time she would have been overjoyed to hear his voice but now...

"Why, yes, no, I had too much to drink that's all." She was relieved the lie came so readily. Riordan stepped closer, shaking his head. "Tell me about it! Here, lean on me, I'll walk you home." He slipped an arm around her.

"Really I can manage on my own!" She protested, but rather weakly since he got her back in a firm grip.

"After all the trouble I had keeping you alive I would hate to loose you because you fell down drunk in the wrong street. Also it'll be a nice change of perspective for me. Anytime you feel like barfing just say so."

"No, no, I'll be fine in a minute," She added hurriedly, "but I'm grateful for the company."

"Anytime." He squeezed her shoulders. Alyse tried to find something smart to say to turn the answer into an invite like Beatris always seemed to be able to do, but came up empty.

"Have you ever found anything valuable in the Roads?"

Riordan took a while to answer. "Only once."

Turning to look at him she asked, genuinely curious now, "What was it? Jewels, weapons?" He shook his head with a private smile.

"No it was something much more valuable."

At the gates to the compound he left her with a wave and a few tips on how to cure a hangover and she returned to the dormitory more confused than ever. Why could he not have continued being the prick so she could get angry at him? Now it was suddenly so very complicated. Undressing she remembered a conversation she once had with her father.

_'You are a beauty, and I'm not saying that just because I'm your father. There will be men...'_

_She rolls her eyes at his worried frown. 'Oh please, I'm not a virgin.'_

_'I'm not talking about the tanner's boy. You have too much of your mother's beauty not to draw attention. Just make sure the man you chose, wants you for the right reasons.'_

_'Fine, I will. Happy now?'_

She folded her chemise and shook her head at the stupidity of it all. Had this been her father's only concern he would have thoroughly approved of Riordan who had no interest in her looks at all, or any other part of her for that matter.

She crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She had told Beatris she preferred Duncan to Riordan and once it had been true. Fate had a nasty sense of humour.


	57. The lesson

**_A note_**: Co-written with Gaspode5. Love and more love to Jaden, Shakespira, Fenzev and Kaedwen.

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><p>Riordan squinted as he stepped into the glaring sunlight of the courtyard. He wasn't even hungover but everyone assumed he was and gave him a wide berth for which he was thankful. The Dreams had been haunting him all night so he was in a rotten mood and not eager for conversation. He greeted Roland and Amaury and gave an ironic bow to Bogdan, a mage he had finally managed to beat some days ago. The mage's mouth narrowed into a thin line before he snapped that he was ready whenever Riordan was. Missing teeth weren't easy to heal.<p>

Riordan decided to put that particular confrontation off for as long as possible. When he felt like this he was too likely to injure someone badly and in that case he wanted it to be someone he really disliked. Whilst Bogdan was an asshole, Riordan did respect him and had a healthy fear of his skills. Where was that bastard Vittorio when you needed him, or the arrogant Dwarf, Mandon something, with the double headed axe? Finding none of those he normally enjoyed trying to pound into pulp, Riordan went over and hung by the well. After downing a dipper of mud-tasting water and procrastinating some more he had no choice but to start buckling on his armour, taking his bloody good time about it. The master-at-arms glared his way several times but refrained from commenting. Riordan smiled inwardly. Sometimes having a reputation for being difficult and at least partially insane had its advantages. He sat down pretending to adjust his greaves when his attention was caught by laughter. Glancing in the direction of the sound he immediately recognised Alyse and her busty friend what's her name, Beatris, having a hand to hand.

Nodding greetings to the other wardens coming to drink and gossip, he watched the fight. "The dark girl is going to get wiped out!" Someone sniggered. Riordan had to agree, Alyse was losing. Every move she made stank of insecurity and over-thinking, only her quick reflexes had kept her on her feet this long. Beatris on the other hand was sly and strong and she fought dirty, he approved of that. All in all it was a pretty sad sight and the only reason there was an audience to this encounter was that it was between two women. Had they been stripped to the waist like the men, they could probably have charged entrance fee. He turned around to exchange a few words with one of the Wardens when the winner was announced. Alyse was getting to her feet while Beatris made mock bows to the bystanders. Riordan shook his head and tightened his vambraces. He would have to get out here himself soon but he'd caught sight of a few faces that would benefit from a good hiding so that was no longer a problem.

Alyse headed towards the well with murder in her eyes, face still beet red. So there was some pride there, good for her! Greeting her he handed her a dipper of water. She drank deeply before wiping the sweat off her face with her sleeve. "Andraste's tits! Why does the entire order have to stand around and watch me loose?" She continued morosely, "It's just not funny, I'm useless at this." Alyse's shoulders drooped and Riordan found that he wanted to cheer her up. 'Be nice to Alyse'.

"I'm sure most of them are just hoping for a chance to see some skin." he offered. "Don't take it personally. You're no melee fighter and none of these morons can hit anything but their own feet and that's while they're pissing." He was rewarded with a laugh.

"But you could teach me couldn't you." She suddenly brightened and the look of faith in her eyes made him nervous.

"Why would you want to learn how to piss on your feet?" She hit him on the shoulder and he smiled, unable to stop himself from warming to their old familiarity. She laughed, her eyes warm, too warm.

"Idiot, you know what I mean."

"Sure but why you would like get close and sweaty with me boggles my mind. Personally I would much prefer to do it with your friend there." He nodded towards Beatris who was chatting to some of the junior Wardens. Pain exploded in his groin and shot through his body. Folding up he sank to his knees panting and had to fight the urge to throw up. She'd kneed him in the crotch.

"I'm going to take that as a yes!" She hissed before stalking off. When she tossed over her shoulder, "See you tomorrow at dawn!" it sounded like a challenge. Slowly Riordan managed to regain his breath and leaned back against the well with a groan.

"So, the pup has learned to bite at last." Sancha came over and crouched down next to him. She was smiling, the bitch.

"Thought I recognised that leaf from your book." Riordan muttered breathing deeply.

"She's got you by the balls now, that's for sure." the woman sniggered.

"Right now I'm not so sure there are any balls left but you're right, she's special."

Sancha's smile got wider. "Had I known that was your thrill I would have given in to the urge a long time ago."

"Nah, a long time ago it would have been too hard to untangle you from Duncan." She clipped the back of his head. He supposed he deserved that. Hearing sniggering nearby Riordan looked over to see two Wardens he didn't recognise.

"Uh oh!" Sancha murmured. "Some people just have no sense of self preservation." She straightened and gave him a hand up. "Just leave something for the healer to actually work with, will you?"

"I'll try." Stalking over to the nearest one Riordan smiled toothily. "I think you need to be put to work." Seeing the man's face pale as he practically dragged him towards the sparring ring almost made up for the earlier humiliation, almost.

-ooo-

The soft pastels of dawn were slowly giving way to a low morning sun casting long shadows across the ground and promising another warm day. Few people were around at this hour. The only sounds came from a Blackbird sitting in one of the trees that shadowed the area around the well.

Alyse, one of nature's early risers half expected a bleary eyed and hung over Riordan to slink out of the shadows, if at all, considering her little stunt the previous day. It would almost have been better if he had not since she'd spent most of yesterday and last night fretting over what she'd done with an odd mixture of horror and smug pride. To her surprise he came striding along eyeing her sharply and without preamble told her to get ready. Warily she noted that he wore no armour at all, not even his customary leather jerkin. To her he looked heart stoppingly handsome. She clamped down on that feeling and complied.

"Is it true that you nearly killed somebody yesterday?" she asked as casually as she could whilst stripping off unnecessary gear. She carefully rolled up her belt and put it away before pinning her braid to her head. Beatris had nearly yanked her head off early on in their training and Alyse wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"Come on, they are always exaggerating these things, worse than fish wives." Riordan muttered. "A few days at the healers really, that's nothing!"

Alyse rolled her shoulders. "So how do we go about doing this?"

"What's your goal?"

"Wipe the dirty ground with Beatris, just once."

"Right." Riordan was removing his tunic but put it back on. Alyse couldn't decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. "You realise this gives a lot of handhold and a good handhold means a lot of opportunities." He tugged at the fabric and Alyse nodded.

Riordan stepped out in the sun. "So this is the deal. You keep your knees off my family jewels and I teach you how to take down your friend, at least once. She's quite clever that one. She'll catch on fast."

"Enough about her, I am the one you are training." Alyse glared crossly at him.

"Right right." Riordan gave her a searching look. "What advantages do you have?"

"None that I can think of, isn't that what you're supposed to teach me?"

"No no!" He rolled his eyes, "you must always figure out what your strong points are against any given enemy. There is always something."

"Against an ogre?"

Riordan huffed. "Brains! Are you playing daft with me?"

"No, never thought of it that way, that's all."

"Feel free to start now. Against your friend what have you got?"

"I'm taller."

"Right!"

She paused. "And I'm faster."

"Right again! You are also more agile. Your problem is that you get lured close where weight and strength matters more, there you have no chance. So what do you have now?"

"Speed, reach and agility." Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Aren't you the clever one today." Riordan mussed her hair. Alyse felt her cheeks grow hot. This was going to be really difficult and not only because she was useless at this unarmed combat thing. She mentally slapped herself as he continued. "And against me, what have you got?"

"Brains!" He laughed. "You're probably right! So get ready now and I'll teach you some tricks that will get Beatris on her back in no time."

"I thought that was what YOU wanted." She said tartly as she ducked under the fence to the sparring ring.

"Well, if all else fails I don't mind watching either." He grinned roguishly at her. To her immense frustration she blushed again.

"You, you're just so coarse!" Makers breath! Why couldn't she come up with something smarter to say? No doubt she'd think of something really devastating later, when it would be of absolutely no use.

The grin never left his face. "Alyse, I thought we had settled that already. All fours please."

-ooo-

The next six mornings were spent with Riordan showing Alyse some of the nasty tricks that life, and occasionally Duncan, had taught him. It took effort to make her understand that sometimes instinct is better than thought. He surprised himself by being a patient teacher, correcting her in a way that seemed to make her feel confident rather than deflated. It was odd since he'd never really considered himself one.

During their sessions he rediscovered something of the companionship edged with banter they had developed during their journey. After training they often hit the baths together before stuffing their faces in the mess. A fact that did not pass unnoticed. Alyse was focused and a fast learner and eventually had him almost convinced she might actually reach her goal, which was just as well. The strain of grappling every morning with an attractive woman without acting was taking its toll. He had no wish to lead her on, she would only expect more. It would have been so much easier if he didn't like her.

Riordan was standing behind her, one arm across her throat and the other across her chest. Her hair was tickling his face as he spoke in her ear. It was annoying and pleasant, reminding him of that this really had to end soon. "It doesn't matter how strong your opponent is although I wouldn't try this with an Ogre." He could feel her body vibrate as she laughed. "You're simply using the opponents own weight. Now, feet apart and knees bent. Got it?" Alyse nodded and adjusted her position as Riordan tightened his grip. Just like that his hand covered her breast and they both froze. There was a sharp intake of breath from Alyse and he felt a nipple press against his palm. Heat bloomed between his legs and an insidious voice whispered '_why not'_. Alyse turned her head, just a little so he got a glimpse of those enormous dark eyes. Blight and blood she was beautiful!

He released her so abruptly she stumbled and marched over to the well where he dunked his head in a bucket of water. Thank the bloody Maker it was hot enough to make it look natural! Alyse followed him and stood there looking confused but this time his smart mouth left him high and dry. He could think of nothing to say that would dispel the sudden awkwardness. "I think that's all I have to teach you." he said, a tad too brusquely. "Feel free to whoop your friend's ass anytime." Alyse gave him a strange look but didn't object. Sopping wet he gathered up his things and headed for the herb garden, if he wasn't mistaken the healer's assistant would be there.

He was in luck but it took a fair bit of coaxing to get her to lift her skirts again. He pushed into the woman so hard she had to brace herself against the wall and probably regretted her willingness. When he finished he caught a glimpse of Alyse's head framed by the stone arch, it instantly vanished. He felt like he'd wrung the neck of a kitten.

As he washed under the pump, Riordan ignored the insults the woman spat at him. Getting the smell of her from his body suddenly seemed important, and the curses were much the same as last time, a bit more colourful perhaps. When she finally stormed off he let out a sigh of relief and sank down on one of the benches. He didn't really think she would do the things she had threatened, but he should probably try to stay conscious next time he was at the healers; just in case.

He slammed the back of his head hard against the wall behind the bench. STUPID! He hadn't even wanted to fuck her in the first place. _'But you wanted to fuck the other one, didn't you, bastard, willing or not._' He banged his head again, this time hard enough to blur his vision. Damn Duncan! _'Be nice to Alyse_.' No doubt a simple request. Had Duncan ever known what it felt like to try, again and again at things other people did seemingly without effort, only to fail? No, Duncan wouldn't know. Everything he set his mind to he succeeded at. As far as Riordan knew Duncan had only two weaknesses, his left and Riordan.

Opening his eyes he realised he was sitting on the very bench he had lain on when Duncan had sought him out long ago. The man had been sitting right there on the grass, nailing him into place with his gaze. He wondered what Duncan had thought he saw, an edgy young man with cold eyes and markings of beatings both old and new? Instead of doing what any sane person would do and back off, Duncan had turned around and offered something Riordan hadn't even realised he wanted. The corner of his mouth twitched. How he had struggled against it, with as much hope as a fly caught in a spider's web. He should have followed his first instinct and kicked the man in the face. That would have been the kind thing to do.

Riordan still couldn't think of their last parting without cringing. These past years the panic that welled up in him each time Duncan had to leave, was beginning to drown out the last vestiges of common sense. Strangely enough it never felt the same when it was HIM leaving Duncan. This was getting out of hand. Soon he would probably snap the neck of a whore just because Duncan was taking her upstairs.

Gritting his teeth Riordan rose and rinsed his face once more. He badly desired to hurt somebody. Before leaving the garden he tied back his hair. Where he was going he needed to see exactly what he was doing.


	58. The way I fear

**A note:** Co-wrtitten with Gaspode5. Megahugs to Fenzev, Kaedwen, Shakespira and Woodelf. These chapters will be slow in coming for a while. RL is a bitch. Thank you all for your patience!

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><p><strong>The way I fear<strong>

"Enough! It's just not going to happen. Riordan prodded the woman who was working his half flaccid cock as he balanced on the edge of the wooden tub. _'Great place. Best Ale in Orlais. Big clean beds and same for the women. They have a bathhouse too. Would be a change of scenery for scumbags like you.'_ Runt's words and all true, which begged the question why Riordan wished himself elsewhere. "Hey. I said give it up!" When she ignored him he yanked her head up by the hair, hard enough to make her yelp. "I said enough!"

"That hurt you bastard!" She glared angrily at him through bloodshot eyes. The booze on her breath could have shrivelled the slimy algae off the bathhouse walls. The paint on her face was smeared taking whatever beauty she might have possessed with it.

"THAT was a gentle warning. Now get out of my face."

"You ...!" Predictably she tried to hit him. He caught her arm. It always amazed him that the average woman would try, whores never did. Stupidity perhaps. With an effort he managed to hold on to his temper and released her.

"Whatever, just get out." When she opened her mouth once more and began to hurl abuse at him, he had had enough. Grabbing her by the neck he showed her out of the wooden tub. Hearing her land hard was strangely satisfying. It sounded like a large wet fish hitting the stone floor. He reached for the bottle and finding some coins near it he tossed them at the woman. "Keep the change!"

"I'M NO WHORE YOU SWINE!" Scrabbling upright she spat in his direction before gathering her scattered clothes. She managed to slam the door pretty hard despite having her arms full. Riordan took a deep pull from the bottle. Not ale but Antivan brandy, quite good too but most important, strong.

"You all are." He muttered. Keeping a firm grip on the bottle he slid down into the tub.

_'They are talking about his mother again, the whore, the harlot. Even though he knows it will hurt he listens, like an itch he scratches although he knows it will bleed._

_"Don't know why she didn't take the lad, he's all right."_

_There is a disdainful snort. "Idiot! He may be all right now but you just wait. Blood will out. It's like a rot starting from the inside. Careful with him when you open that big trap of yours or one day you might find yourself suddenly without a job, and a tongue."_

_Silently he withdraws. Another question has found an answer._

_He's started target practice and is showing enough skill to make Edmund pat his shoulder once. He loves the time at the butts, there are four straw dolls and he has a name for them all. William, Geralt, father, ...mother...'_

After allowing a few moments to collect himself and letting the alcohol do its work he thought he could perhaps have handled the woman better. After all it wasn't her fault she resembled the one Duncan had been chatting up at the bar. 'What's that to you now? It's not like you haven't seen it many times before.' Riordan frowned and took another swig of brandy.

What had started out as a kind of celebration of Duncan's return had deteriorated into a stag-party for Roland as he announced his coming wedding. They pooled money for whores which the big Orlesian promptly refused, the man was a total loss. Riordan's lips stretched into a smile as he thought of Sorry snatching the only whore available right from under their noses. A bit of a surprise there. He normally dedicated all his nervous energies to inventing new and increasingly daft spells. Women were generally bundled in the category 'sentient' beings, together with the rest of them. Seemed a bit of an irony since the man was hung like a donkey. Maybe Circle Mages were castrated magically or it was something in the man's head.

With a frustrated groan Riordan sank deeper into the water. There was something in his own head as well, the image of Duncan stroking the back of that maid. The bitch had been playing coy but Duncan would have her on her back soon enough, the man was weird that way. Instead of just getting a whore he always preferred to charm a woman to bed. Riordan knew Duncan would never admit it but it was pretty obvious he wanted to be loved not laid. Poor sod. Riordan had just grabbed the first one to show an interest, just to get it over with. In hindsight not a good idea and it had done nothing to improve on an already messed up evening.

_'You'll be leading the archers.'_ Duncan had told him with a wink and a grin earlier as he announced that he had all the support needed to try out his new version of the night raids. Riordan hoped his sarcastic enthusiasm had felt genuine enough to fool the rest but he didn't miss the flicker in Duncan's eyes or the brief touch to his knee beneath the table. Duncan knew he was scared shitless. New anger rose within. He wasn't a dimwit. He immediately grasped that the outcome would depend mostly on how he handled himself and whatever unfortunate sods that had to follow him. It didn't get any better when he realised Duncan planned to fight alongside Runt and the others. Leading by example. Stupid, noble, bloody idiot! Duncan's place was in the shadows at the enemy's back, or even better, back to back with Riordan. Runt and Guilbert had laughed at the thought of Duncan with the heavies and the idiot Sorry thought it was all a game. The only one who had seemed to understand was fucking Vittorio who had met Riordan's eyes and toasted him privately across the table. Riordan showed some teeth in return although not too much he hoped. As much as he hated the Antivan, the guy was one of the best defenders he'd ever met.

He would need ten to fifteen of the best archers, five or so should initially face away from the fire to be able to see in the dark, just in case the Spawn got smart. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The best would have to include Alyse. He had watched and congratulated her on her win against Beatris, a solid one. She had thanked him stiffly for 'all his instructions' and studiously avoided him since. Asking her, no ORDERING her to come on this mission would not be ...pleasant.

Part of the problem was he genuinely liked her. She seemed rather soft, yet there was a core of steel in her which reminded him of Duncan. Being around her quieted something inside him and he actually missed her company. If she had a character flaw it was her attachment to him, former attachment. Blight and blood! Maybe he should try to patch things up with her anyway. What harm could it do? Only he had absolutely no idea of how. Perhaps Duncan would know.

Duncan yes, another problem. With a sigh Riordan swallowed another mouthful of brandy. Was the man aware of that the success they had had with this tactic as a pair, largely depended on Riordan's ability to know exactly where Duncan was at any given moment? It required deep concentration on Riordan's part and while he wouldn't mind putting an arrow or two in Vittorio he was unsure if he could keep his concentration well enough to avoid hitting the other mêlée fighters. Not to mention how the other archers would handle it. He badly needed to talk to Duncan, this time he would do his best to be honest. This new awkwardness between them since Duncan's departure to the Val, Riordan hated it. As much as he disliked admitting it he sometimes needed Duncan more than he needed air.

Putting the bottle aside he picked up a discarded bar of soap then another, they all smelled of lavender, just his luck.

-ooo-

Riordan woke with a start, shivering and nearly sober. "Piss and blood!" He heaved himself out of the tub. A near fall made him reconsider his level of sobriety. His hair was still damp; he couldn't have been out long. Squatting to coax the fire back to life he tried to remember if they had rented rooms. He cast about for his clothes and finally found a rumpled up tunic and leggings. Irritably he pulled them on, not bothering to dry himself. He needed another drink, badly. Picking the bottle off the floor he confirmed that it was dangerously close to empty. Time for another one. He was just about to search for the rest of his clothes when the door crashed open and a couple almost fell inside. He reached for a dagger that wasn't there before catching up with his instincts and made himself relax.

"Riordan?" Duncan sounded mildly surprised.

"I'll be gone in a moment." Riordan wasn't particular about having anyone watch him with a woman but he knew Duncan usually felt otherwise so he would make his excuses and leave as soon as possible. Now where the Blight was his belt? In the background he heard Duncan say.

"Here! Didn't I promise you a bath fit for a queen? "

"You rascal! I wash these towels every day." The woman's voice was a husky laugh.

"You're the queen of towels then, the most powerful ruler in the world." Riordan shook his head; no one could talk the women around like Duncan.

"You are freezing." A towel landed on his shoulders followed by a hand lifting his wet hair from his neck. The touch sent shivers that had nothing to do with cold down his spine. He answered without looking at Duncan.

"I am, thank you."

"What happened to your face?"

Riordan shrugged, there wasn't much to see but trust Duncan to have noticed. "Never mind."

Duncan gave him a piercing look before giving his shoulder a quick squeeze.

"All right then?"

"Right as rain! Get back to your woman before she tires of you."

"Ah, she wouldn't, would you sweetheart?"

"I might mind you." The woman laughed.

Duncan returned to the business at hand. "Well we can't have that now. A Queen's wrath is not to be trifled with."

Riordan struggled with the ins and outs of his trousers whilst some sick part of his brain kept an eye on his friend.

As the woman pulled the tunic over Duncan's head, Riordan watched the movements of long muscles across a dusky back he knew far better than his own. He knew how it felt to wake up with his face pressed against it and knew every scar and how they were gotten. Duncan complained about it from time to time but they both knew the huddling together filled a hole in both their souls. He knew what that skin smelled like after a week in the cold, after a swim in a lake and after the man had tumbled a woman. Until of late the last had never bothered him. Blight! Duncan was watching him with a raised eyebrow. Had he been staring? He had fucking been staring! Embarrassed he turned his attention back to his clothes and didn't raise his gaze again until the sounds made it safe.

The easy way Duncan's hands travelled the woman's body almost made Riordan envious -almost. What use had he for knowing the ways to please a woman? None! Try as he might he couldn't resist comparing his own angular, scarred body to the soft curves Duncan was slowly exploring. When the woman slipped a hand between Duncan's legs, causing a look of pleasure to flow over his face and wringing a groan from him, Riordan knew he had to get out of here whilst he could still resist the urge to rip her head off. He gave up on his clothes, leggings and tunic would have to do. To calm himself he took another pull from the bottle before scooping up his remaining gear.

As he got up Duncan called out.

"Leaving?"

Riordan approached the pair. "I am. The castle is all yours." He bowed. "Enjoy your evening and you as well your highness." That stuck in his craw but he let nothing show in his face.

"Oh aren't you a sweet one." The woman reached out for his cheek. When evading her touch he found his face close to Duncan's and caught the familiar smell of sweat mixed with herbs for which he had no name. As he started to rise his neck was caught in a firm grasp and he found himself staring into Duncan's eyes, too close. All of a sudden he was falling. His heart beat once, hard enough to almost make him cough and his mouth went dry.

"Riordan."

"Yes?"

"Stay."

"Yes."


	59. The seduction

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5. AND FINALLY! I've been so busy and uninspired I'm really sorry for what I've made Gaspode go through. Megahugs and more to Fenzev, Jaden, Shakespira and TheWoodelf for reviewing last chapter. And WHY THE F-K does the delimiter not work anymore!? Rant over

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><p><strong>The Seduction<strong>

It was the intense look he'd gotten from Riordan that prompted that question but now Duncan didn't know if he was to be scared or excited when the man settled behind him on the rickety wooden bench. He decided to pretend everything was as normal and try to re-focus on the woman. It should be easy, she was a beauty and all and it seemed Riordan was satisfied with just sitting there drinking.

Duncan caught the maid peering over his shoulder, eyeing Riordan speculatively. "Undress me." she suddenly said. 'Good luck with that!' Duncan thought and froze as he unexpectedly felt Riordan get to his feet. What the fuck was going on? He winced as the man grabbed the back of her corselet and tore it apart. He was freakishly strong. There was a shocked squeak from the maid, which petered out in a giggle. No doubt she mistook it for passion. Duncan knew better and a tiny worm of concern twisted in his chest.

"Anything else?" Riordan drawled as he prowled back to his place behind him.

Apparently the woman couldn't take a hint. The heated gaze she sent Riordan's way as he ignored her to reclaim the bottle suggested quite the opposite. "Undress each other!" she said breathily.

Duncan tensed but Riordan simply reached out and gently untied the leather thong that held his hair in place, smoothing down the tresses as they skimmed across his shoulders. The contrast was jarring and Duncan's heart missed a beat.

"All of it!"

"I know _I_ didn't pay her to talk. Did you pay her to talk Duncan?" Riordan said lazily, his voice tinged with anger.

Duncan stared at his maid but all he could think of was that gentle brush of Riordan's fingers. "Not that I remember." he said absentmindedly.

Riordan reclaimed the bottle from the floor. "Do something about it then."

In a heartbeat the woman went from blushes and flirting to hissing and claws. "I'm NO WHORE!"

There was a growl from Riordan. "I'm so fucking _tired_ of hearing that line!" The bench shook as he shot up. Before Duncan could react the man had the woman by the scruff of the neck and out the room. "Here, I'll save you the effort of slamming the door!" he ground out, giving it a kick that nearly made it jump off the hinges. The woman's shouts were instantly muffled.

Stunned Duncan watched him take a few deep breaths, then lean his forehead against the door. After a fraught silence Riordan whispered, "I'm sorry. If you go after her quickly I'm sure she'll return. She'd be an utter moron not to. I'll leave right now. Tell her I'm a lunatic or something. Really I'm terribly sorry, I don't know what happened..."

"Women come, women go." Duncan said carefully. This was new territory. He was left fumbling in the dark, yet strangely excited. "This is you being OK?" He said wryly.

"Right as rain."

Leaning back against the wall Duncan said, "You really are the most horrible liar." To his relief there was a snort that could have been laughter.

"I've always considered myself pretty accomplished."

"To anyone else maybe." Responding to the strange discordant note he felt when he tapped their connection, Duncan approached his friend. Ignoring Riordan's tension he pulled him into a hug. "You trust me don't you?"

"Yes." Duncan's heart leapt once at the unhesitating reply, then again when he felt the other man's arms move to cautiously hug him back. "I'm an asshole." Riordan muttered.

"You are. I look at it as part of your charm." He felt Riordan's smile against his neck; suddenly he could feel nothing else. Tightening his grip he mumbled, "I just want you to be who you are."

"You don't know what you're saying." Duncan felt the rapid pulse and drew his hands down the other man's back trying to convey reassurance. Riordan's square capable hands clenched against him. From that point there was no turning back.

"Remember I once said you were a rotten kisser?"

"I do."

"You ready to learn?"

Duncan doesn't wait for an answer. Fear and excitement tingles through him as he captures Riordan's chin and ghosts his lips over the other man's. There is a sharp intake of breath. Slowly he traces the inside of the upper lip with his tongue before stopping, their mouths connected by breaths. "Something like that." he says huskily.

"Got it." Riordan's breathing is ragged.

"You sure? You can be a bit slow sometimes..." Duncan brushes over the lips once more before pressing light kisses to Riordan's forehead, the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth. He is about to withdraw when a hand clenches violently in his hair.

Air escapes him as his back hits the wall. His breath is swallowed by a crushing kiss and Duncan slides helplessly to the floor never noticing the sharpness of stone against his back. Thoughts dissolve as Riordan's tongue battle his. Clumsy with want he pulls at Riordan's tunic and finally breaks off the kiss to rip it over his head.

They stare at each other like combatants. Riordan's pale eyes are feverish, his lips parted. Women find him attractive and Duncan sees it in the soft curves of the mouth, the black fringe of eyelashes, the barely veiled sensuality that everybody is aware of except Riordan. But all this is irrelevant. What holds Duncan is loyalty beyond reason and a heart that bleeds inside its shell. There's wry wit, sharp intelligence and a stubborn dislike of any kind of artifice. Uncertainty flickers over Riordan's face. "It's not a pretty sight, I know." he says thickly. Duncan realises he's staring. Reaching out he presses his palm against Riordan's chest, just over the heart. He feels it racing.

"You're so blind!"

"No more than you." The smile is hesitant and Duncan loves that too. Riordan is jittery like a maiden. Duncan brushes his fingers over his mouth. It's warm, soft...there is a cut in the bottom lip. Another fight that will never be talked about. There is a moment when all that exists is harsh breathing and the minute movement of lips against fingers. He feels a change in Riordan and knows he's about to pull back...

...Riordan spits a surprised curse as he's slammed back against the stone floor. Duncan's instincts shout at him to let go, to apologise. Riordan's lips pulls back in a feral snarl but his eyes hold only lust...

...All Riordan is capable of sensing is Duncan's mouth pressing against his neck. A hiss escapes him as sharp nips are followed by a warm tongue and he clings to Duncan, digging his fingers in with bruising force. Growling he fists into Duncan's hair, pulling his head up...

... Riordan's mouth crashes into his, teeth clash and Duncan tastes blood. He almost sobs as he tries to get even closer, joy mingling with madness. So many times he's dreamt of tenderly showing Riordan how he feels but that is all incinerated in his need...

...They break off the kiss to the sound of ragged breaths. Riordan suddenly feels like a creature pulled from a dark hole squinting at colours and shapes he never imagined. Part of him wants to embrace it but instinct tells him to flee back to safety. Duncan's hands exploring his body makes thoughts and choice impossible. The pressure of a thumb opens the cut in Riordan's lip further, the pain driving a moan from him. He reaches blindly for the other man...

... Hands that were curled are opening, stroking. Riordan's teeth scraping down Duncan's throat sends pleasure and pain spiralling into his gut, then there is only pleasure. Pushing the man back Duncan scores pale skin with his teeth, laves with his tongue, he tastes, breathes, revels in what he thought he would never have. As he reaches the stomach, strong fingers slide into his hair, he looks up...

...Digging his fingers into Duncan's hair Riordan falls into eyes black with desire. A wall of heat is rolling through him and for a heartbeat he sees his own face, eyes wild and lips parted. He looks fey. He closes his eyes to escape the sight...

...Clasping Riordan's neck, Duncan pulls him closer, deepening the kiss then pulls back to run his fingers over features he knows better than his own. Need clogs his throat and it rises like a flood. It's tinged with desperation and as he opens his mind further he feels Riordan's arousal consume him...

...Frantic sounds are torn from Riordan as dark hands slides over his body. Duncan is everywhere and there is a mounting pressure somewhere between agony and ecstasy. As the other man ghost fingers and mouth over his nipples he slams his head back against the floor in a desperate attempt to halt the inevitable. Instantly Duncan is there, cradling it between his hands, pressing light kisses to his eyelids...

...There is a sharp moment of fear as he clasps Riordan. 'I won't let you do this...I will never hurt you...' but his voice is gone the way of his reason so he soothes with is mouth and his hands...

...Even now he can feel Duncan trembling, trying to hold back. Riordan has only to say the word and he will withdraw. It makes him want to cry. Instead he shakes his head and guides Duncan's hand along with his own until they meet the throbbing heat trapped between them. Giving up every conscious thought he lets the sound and breathing of the other man lead them both until Duncan gasps, burying his face against his damp skin and Riordan is carried with him.

-ooo-

Duncan lay listening to slowing breaths, waiting for his heart to calm. In his field of vision there was a mole, a tiny imperfection. He brushed his finger over it feeling the soft warmth of skin. Tilting his head he studied the strong line of Riordan's jaw and the corded muscle of his neck marked with bruises. They had left their brands on each other. Riordan's head was turned away and the usual mess of dark hair hid what might have been seen of his face. Sliding his hand up Duncan gently brushed some away. For this precious now the world was perfect. He knew he would remember this moment every time he saw or heard Riordan and, he realised with a grin, every time he smelled lavender.


	60. The aftermath

**A note:** Co written with Gaspode5. Long time no write and great hugs to Fenzev, Shakespira Jaden & theWoodelf.

**The Aftermath**

Riordan desperately needed to recover and think, which was nigh on impossible with Duncan's touches to his hair and cheek. He caught the other man's hand and held it against his chest. "Give me just one moment."

"Of course." The statement was punctuated with a soft kiss to his shoulder. He should probably do something similar in return but was too afraid to screw it up. He could feel the heat of Duncan's body against his own and the closeness made his mind wander down paths he really didn't want to go just now. Safest to lay still and play dead.

With a sinking heart he realised that he should have let this happen that first time in the baths while they could have passed it off as drunken stupidity. If only he hadn't been so angry with Duncan when the man called it a game. This was no fucking game as far as Riordan was concerned. Again his temper had tripped him up just when he needed to be distant, to let things flow around him as he was accustomed too. The problem was Duncan always refused to be diverted. That was why he loved him and feared him. After this Duncan would feel beholden to him no matter what. What could Riordan say? Cut me loose? That would be plain wrong and right now cruel. He loved Duncan, he didn't want Duncan to love him. He didn't know what to do or say. Maker what a mess!

"Riordan?" Now he'd been silent so long THAT became weird and wrong. He squeezed the long fingered hand, buying time. Soon he would have to meet Duncan's eyes. How could he explain that the first time Duncan had pulled their foreheads together, accepting him, had held much more significance than what just happened. He couldn't, that was what! Things would surely go straight to the Black City from here on. Piss and blood how he regretted it!

"What?" The surprise was unmistakable.

Riordan's eyes flew open. "How long?"

Duncan blinked; there was a look of horror on his face. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to. It just..."

It took Riordan a few moments to remember how to close his mind but finally it was there. It felt like losing a sense which was only fitting. With a startled intake of breath the other man tensed. Stiffly Riordan got to his feet. "I wish you could have trusted me to give you a truthful answer." He made it over to the tub for a quick wash. It still stank of bloody Lavender. Even without the link he felt Duncan's eyes on his back.

"I should have. I know. I'm so fucking sorry!"

Duncan's voice radiated unhappiness, still Riordan couldn't bear to look at him. He waited for the fury to rise within but all he felt was grief. "Let's not argue the point. I wouldn't throw away our friendship for this." Perhaps his hurt made him put a bit more emphasis on friendship. As he pulled on his trousers he retreated into his shell, it was depressingly familiar. "I better leave. Take care and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Wait, where..." Riordan closed the door on the rest of the question.

-ooo-

If Duncan hadn't been aware of waking he wouldn't have known he'd slept at all. He had been lying awake, hoping and dreading that Riordan would come. As he splashed some water on his face to chase away the aching heaviness, gloom sank through him like a lead weight. The polished brass of the mirror above the wash stand showed eyes circled by bruises of tiredness. There were other bruises on his neck and as he pulled his tunic off, yet more on his chest. Something clenched painfully behind his ribs and suddenly he hated the face in the mirror. Sweet fucking Andraste! How could he have been so stupid? The man had asked for time, a simple thing, but Duncan hadn't been able to deliver. Not only that. He'd felt Riordans regret and known that this was not what he had wanted. Duncan forced his hand giving him no way out. The thought made him feel dirty, ill. Now Riordan had shut him out with the rest of the world.

As he entered the taproom he spotted Vittorio at a table and got a sullen nod. The Antivan was little better in the mornings than Riordan and Duncan had never been more grateful for that. "Where are the others?" Rolling his eyes Vittorio indicated the outside before turning back to his food. Duncan was in no mood for breakfast but desperately needed to talk to Riordan. 'I wouldn't throw away our friendship for this.' he had said. It had the ring of doom but Duncan clung to it all the same. Squinting against the bright sunlight he saw Roland talking to a man holding what initially looked like a baby. Once he got closer he saw it was a piglet. "Hey Rat boy! Finally up!" The big Orlesian looked disgustingly alert and his blue eyes studied him sharply.

"Ah, sort of." Duncan scratched the piglet between the eyes. It seemed remarkably content. "Do you have any idea...?"

"In the wagon. This good man is delivering goods to the compound and I promised him an escort." Roland flashed Duncan a grin and winked. "Can't run the risk of the cargo getting held up and it seemed as good an opportunity as any for a lift for those more fragile. I've seen Sorry too, believe me we need this." Duncan glanced inside the wagon. Sure enough, between cages containing chickens and piglets, a pair of familiar legs stuck out. "Told Pony it was a dumb idea to try and beat these guys at their own game, especially when pissed, but did he listen? Seriously, Quarterstaff fighting and balancing acts! It was a bloody miracle he escaped with a broken arm instead of a broken neck. But, as he said and proved, one arm is enough for drinking." Torn between the immediate urge to check on Riordan and keeping his distance, Duncan leaned further in, straining to get a better look. Roland patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, he's as fine as he'll ever be. I've already checked."

"Thank you." Duncan couldn't remember the amount of times he had spent waiting for the Riordan to recover from some scrape or other, watching him finally smile without opening his eyes and say 'Duncan'. A word that encompassed everything. He always answered 'Who else?' Those moments were gone now. Feeling foolish he glanced at Roland who was watching him with something suspiciously like pity. "Here have a piggy it's relaxing." He reached for another while Duncan frantically tried to hold on to the one thrust into his arms. The damn thing was struggling and squealing like the Blight was around the corner. He stumbled backwards towards a bench clutching it. "Andraste's tits Runt! Take the fucking animal, it hates me!"

"Pfft" Roland sat down beside him with another piglet in his arms. "Stop strangling it. Firm yet gentle that's the trick."

"Right" Duncan loosened his grip slightly. "Here now, nothing bad is going to happen." he murmured, hoping nobody was watching.

"Something very bad is going to happen in six months but that's no excuse for not treating the beasties well in the meantime. Roland's piglet was already quiet. "Now look at this!" The man held it out at arm's length, smiling at its squeals of protest. "Support its belly, let it know that you've got it no matter what." Taking pity on his piglet Roland let it return to the safety against his chest.

"I hear you." Duncan muttered struggling with his squealing armful. There, finally! He shot Roland a grin as he scratched the beast behind the ears.

"Very good City-boy." He continued thoughtfully, "You know, without Pony I wouldn't have made it out of the roads that first time. When I didn't manage to collect my own Spawn juice he gave me his and killed another while I was still shaking and soiling myself and never a word." Roland smiled wryly. Duncan concentrated on his pig. At the time he'd been too busy planning his escape through the Roads to notice what went on amongst the others "I never wanted to become a Warden. Then one day a couple of them came to our farm to water their horses. Took one look at me and my brothers and conscripted one on the spot. They let mother choose which one, guess they thought they were being generous." For all his openness Roland rarely spoke of his past. Duncan was fascinated despite himself.

"I didn't know. Do you miss your old life?"

"Sometimes, especially the animals. The pigs were my favourites. Smart creatures and demons when it comes to escaping. Riordan kept telling me to stop moaning about what I couldn't change but always let me finish. Took awhile before I noticed he never said anything about himself."

"Well, that's Riordan." To have something to do Duncan petted the pig again. "It's not mine to tell." he added.

"I would think less of you if you did." Roland glanced towards the wagon. "He's not always completely straight in the head and I don't think anything can change that, not even you." He kissed the piglet's snout before stowing it back with its siblings. When he turned to Duncan again the sharp look was back in his eyes. "Since I patched up Pony I gotta ask; did you fuck or did you fight?"

Duncan groaned inwardly. How did the man sniff these things out? It wasn't as if Riordan would have talked, drunk or not. Yet there was little point in denying it. He sighed.

"A bit of both I guess."

There was a thoughtful pause then the big man shrugged. "Ah, well...how about some breakfast?"

-ooo-

Riding behind the wagon at a slow pace, Duncan had even more time to consider how much he had come to depend on the link with Riordan. As always happened when they had just parted and the link disappeared, it felt like somebody had lopped off a part of him. The difference now was Riordan was there, almost within physical reach. To not sense him was downright disorientating. The thought that Riordan might never again let him in was terrifying. He could see the man's body judder with each bump in the road but couldn't tell if he was asleep or faking it. Riordan only moved once to swat at Amaury who was trying to heal him. Probably a clever move since the mage was alternating between throwing up, crying and whimpering that from now on his body was a temple. If Duncan hadn't been so miserable himself it would have been funny. Finally Amaury crumpled into a heap next to Riordan but Duncan kept an eye out for any signs of magic. If Riordan grew an extra arm he might be fine with it but if he lost one...

By the time they reached Montsimmard Duncan's headache had returned although it rather paled in comparison to the hurt in the chest. Amaury seemed to have passed out in the back next to Riordan or at least he'd stopped whimpering. As they approached the compound Riordan sat up easing himself towards the edge like a bloody cat preparing to bolt. Duncan tried to discreetly catch his attention but the man refused to look at him.

The yard inside the gates seemed more full of horses and people than usual. A familiar voice startled Duncan out of his dark reveries. "Sky! Oi, it's me! Catch! A small figure launched itself at Riordan who cursed with pain and stumbled back against the wagon. Astonished Duncan took in the bright green eyes beaming with joy at the reunion. He watched Riordan laugh and pull Jade into a one handed hug saying something in a low voice. "Oh! I fucked the crown prince so well that none other than Teyrn Loghain himself told the Commander to transfer me. Well he was a little more blunt but that was the gist of it! Too bad, the Prince was fantastic at..." The rest was muffled beneath Riordan's hand. Still smiling he put her on her feet and pointed her towards Duncan. She immediately came hurtling in his direction. He barely had time to note that she'd cut her hair and that there was a new leanness to her face, the result of her Warden life no doubt. It didn't make her any less beautiful. "Duncan, I..." Laughing he covered her mouth with his hand while pulling her into a hug. "Yes I heard the first time."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Of course he isn't." Riordan was at their side. "Duncan is very proud of you and extremely glad that you are here."

"I'm perfectly capable of answering for myself." The sudden irritation took Duncan by surprise but he managed to keep it out of his voice.

"If you say so. Welcome to Montsimmard Jewel. Your friends are my friends and your enemies my enemies." Duncan gritted his teeth. Damn the man! He had a way with words when he bloody wanted to. He had been right though, Duncan WAS happy to see Jade.

"Who is the handsome man with the curly hair, that can't keep his eyes off my ass?" Jade's whisper was too loud not to be deliberate.

Riordan laughed. "Oh that's Guilbert. He's a good man. We'll introduce you if you want."

"Oh really!" Jade tilted her head and curiously eyed Guilbert who suddenly found his horse very interesting.

"He hasn't got a chance you know." Duncan hissed in Riordan's ear.

"So what? You want her for yourself?"

"Are you daft? Please Riordan, we have to talk!"

"May I remind you, that arm you're clutching is still broken?" Embarrassed Duncan stepped back. He hated that aloof politeness Riordan adopted with such ease, stronger than Dragonbone armour. "I would prefer to get it fixed sooner rather than later but it's your call."

"I'm sorry. I'll come with you."

"Why? Do I need a babysitter? Take care of your recruit instead." Duncan yearned to shout. 'I want to see you wake up and smile because I'm there. That's fucking why!' Naturally he didn't.

"Of course. See you later."

-ooo-

As far as Riordan was concerned healers were a breed unto themselves. Either completely barmy or dour boring types that spent far too much time talking to plants. The Wardens seemed to get mostly the former, probably because nobody else dared to employ them. Riordan had hoped for 'Drill -You know the drill, clothes off and no screaming' or the Elven woman who was very kind but took bloody forever. He got the Leech, nicknamed for two things, favouring leeching and being a lecher. To top it off the assistant was the one Riordan had screwed in the herb garden recently. It was just one of those days.

Leech beamed at him. "Ah Riordan. long time no bleed." He turned to the woman. "Juliana, fetch the darlings."

"It's just a broken arm." Riordan protested weakly.

"We've had this discussion before lad. Leeches are good for everything. Just like women eh?" The Leech nudged him, thankfully in the healthy arm. "Ah here they are. Cut this man's clothes open from the back." The assistant brandished the scissors at Riordan with a scowl. He had no wish to turn his back on her but had little choice. Instead he concentrated on the jar of leeches.

"Do they get the Taint?" He hoped they did.

"Are you onto my research or something? I have high hopes that one day you will call these lovely animals Brothers and Sisters."

"Yeah, that would scare the living daylight out of the Bugs. We could load them in mangonels."

"I like the way you think lad!" The Leech beamed while the assistant stabbed Riordan just enough to hurt. He would let her have that one. Was there a single sane person in this building?

"Here we go. Oh, somebody has had a very frisky woman recently. Was that you Juliana?"

"I would never...!" the assistant growled. Another stab with the scissors told Riordan this was a bad topic. Things were getting a bit too risky for comfort.

"No sleeping potion."

The Leech cocked an eyebrow at him but sounded pleased. "No? Are you sure? Interesting but still..."

"I'm sure."

Leaning closer The Leech peered at him. "Very frisky, he he."

"Get on with the bloody worms!"

"And with very large hands."

"Shut the fuck up!" Resigning himself to be bled Riordan tried to focus on what was important. He was unsure of why he had reacted the way he had earlier. There was no doubt that he hurt Duncan. That had been the intention and Riordan knew where to strike for best effect. But why? Was it even important that Duncan had delved into his mind? Perhaps not. Angrily he shoved it aside. Duncan HAD dug deeper than he should. How many of Riordan's decisions of late had been his alone? Still he was unable to halt the emotions last night had woken. A wave of despair washed over him as he realised that for the first time in his sorry life he knew the full extent of what he would be turning away from. "I've changed my mind. Give me a sleeping potion."

"You disappoint me lad, but I guess the choice is yours."

Riordan swallowed, grimacing at the familiar bitter taste. "Seems that's all I do these days." He added, "That arm is going to pull a bow flawlessly in three days so get a mage when you're done or I'm coming to put my heel to all your little Wardens. Do you understand?"

"Hmpf. Bold words for a man soon to be unconscious. Anything could happen." The Leech managed to look hurt.

"Fine! I don't care." Riordan hated the sudden look of pity on the old healers face but he had no doubt he would wake up safe and sound.


	61. The Crème de la Crème

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Hey! We finally managed to post another chapter. Many thanks to Shakespira and Fenzev for hanging in there.

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><p><strong>The Crème de la Crème<strong>

The sound of cartilage breaking made Alyse flinch with the others. As the bleeding Warden clapped his hands to his face his eyes promised murder to the man who had delivered the blow. Riordan smiled and nodded. "And there's plenty to go around." She stepped back as he turned and scanned the group. "Anyone else feel like making up their own rules? Speak up and get it over with." He turned back to the man with the broken nose. "And stop moaning for fuck's sake. What are you? A whore?" There was a scattering of nervous laughter and some of the tension dissipated. "You are all hand-picked and it seems only fair that the hand who did the picking should correct its mistakes. Unfortunately once the Spawn starts crawling all over us that hand will carry an arrow and I won't lay it down to gently discipline anyone else. Is this understood?"

"It was just a joke. Wasn't meant to get so close." The Warden whined.

"Well that's all right then. I was only having a bit of fun too." Riordan's voice was a lazy drawl. Maybe the others only saw the smile on his lips but Alyse watched his eyes. She took another step back, not wanting to witness what would happen next.

"Better get ready!" Andraste twice be blessed! Duncan. With one raised eyebrow he regarded the man with the broken nose who quickly scrambled out of the way. "Trouble?" Riordan shrugged.

"Nah, we're ready. Any sign?"

Duncan scanned the gathered archers before turning back to Riordan. "Only a matter of time but judging by the complaints from the villages around here we should expect at least twice the amount from last time. Will you manage that?"

"More or less."

"This is the last."

"That's fortunate." We're gonna be a bit stretched but I guess we have no choice."

"There's always a choice." It seemed Duncan was expecting a response. When nothing was forthcoming he clapped the other man on the shoulder and gave the archers a wave and a thumbs up before returning to the mêlée warriors by the bonfire. Alyse watched Riordan's eyes following him before he abruptly turned away with a scowl on his face. With a precise, clipped tone he directed the archers to where he wanted them, they knew the drill. It was a relief to move into the darkness amongst the bushes, away from the tension Alyse had felt between the two men. They spoke like the Brothers they were but there was an undertone that set her teeth on edge.

The fighters by the fire were shouting and laughing. It was all pretence but still sounded strange as they all waited for the enemy to attack. Beneath the noise Alyse felt the angry pulse of the Spawn call. It made her clench her fists and long for something to hit. She was busying herself, readying the bow for the umpteenth time when Riordan squatted at her side. "You ready?"

"I am."

"Great." She watched him stringing his own bow, seemingly without effort the bastard. "In case I haven't told you; you have been one of the best so far."

"You know perfectly well you haven't told me." The pre-battle tension made her jumpy and angry. It was easier once it had all begun. There was no time to fret over ones mortality then. He surprised her by bowing his head before meeting her eyes.

"Yeah I know. I should have. I'm sorry." Turning away he began examining his arrows.

_'She rather enjoys seeing how uncomfortable he is as he asks her to be a part of this new mission. Despite her resentment she nods. As her senior he could order her but he fidgets and makes it sound like he's begging a favour. "For the sake of the others." she finally replies. He inclines his head and very politely, very coldly says, "Thank you, that's all I ask." She can't resist a barb. "Sure you wouldn't prefer Beatris?" There is nothing but seriousness in his expression when he replies, "That one can't hit her feet while pissing." Alyse's face is rebellious and she grins despite her best efforts. There is something about this man that just won't let her go. She irritably reminds herself that she hates him.'_

As they waited for the Spawn to come storming out of the darkness she sensed an air of dejection from Riordan. She didn't like it and suspected he was sitting next to her because she was the one he disliked the least and he needed the respite. Surprisingly she found she wanted to see him confident again, anything else rattled her and made her think they would all perish. Raising her chin she tapped him on the head with an arrow. "Well that's settled then. I'm the, what's the expression in Orlesian again, 'the crème de la crème'?"

"That you are. Bloody language eh?" He grinned, looking at bit surprised before nodding towards her bow. "Still using that old thing I see."

She looked down at the weapon and ran her fingertips over the worn, polished wood. It was comforting. "I've tried others but somehow this is the only one that feels right. It's a really good bow."

"Hm, I suppose most of the standard stuff is heavier. Perhaps an Elven bow would suit you better. The Dalish are supposed to make superior ones out of something called Ironbark."

"Give me one and I will. I sure can't afford one." she huffed. It was legendary amongst archers; light, strong and expensive. Especially since the Dalish elves were reluctant to share.

Riordan snorted. "Who can?" They both continued to inspect each of their arrows in the light from the bonfire out in the clearing. It felt comfortable and professional. Since the conversation seemed to have put Riordan at ease Alyse cast about for something else to say.

"That Dwarven woman sure got mad when Duncan wouldn't take her."

"What woman? Oh you mean Jade." Riordan chuckled. "Pretty convincing eh?" At her blank look he continued. "It was just for show. Jade hates being outside walls. Thinks there's something evil lurking behind every leaf."

"You seem to know her pretty well." There was that annoying sting of jealousy again! She had no reason and certainly no right. She'd seen Riordan with Jade in the mess and the woman had seemed far more comfortable with him than Alyse had ever been allowed to be, even before...

Riordan took a second look at an arrow before tossing it aside. "A bit. We did some travelling together. She's quite a character."

"We did some travelling too. Do you know anything I dislike?"

"Apart from me? No I don't think so." Suddenly he looked tense again and stared towards the fire. "Incoming!" It was echoed by shouts from the fire.

She felt the tell-tale tingle in the Taint as she watched him getting to his feet. He flexed his shoulders before extending a hand to assist her. It was warm and calloused, strong and she longed to hang on to it. Her heart fluttered, she just couldn't help it. He gave her a short nod before disappearing amongst the bushes. As Alyse took her position the thought suddenly struck her why Riordan was nervous. He feared for Duncan. It was odd. During their struggles in the Dales the immortality of Duncan was the one thing he never doubted. Something had changed.

-ooo-

Vittorio got to his feet, hands moving in the sign of the Maker, after having said his customary prayers. "They are many."

Duncan nodded. "Shrieks this time and a Splatter."

"Two."

He shot Vittorio a glance. Was he that good or just guessing? The Antivan had that inward look all Wardens got when searching for Spawn through the Taint. "You sure?"

Vittorio pushed the helmet down on his head, it muffled his voice. "Yes."

Roland clanged his axe handle against his chest. "Heard that Sorry? Piss yourself if you have to but keep that shield in place for longer than possible."

"Of course! In fact I've just had a great idea for a minor adjustment that will vastly improve..."

"I'll adjust your head off your body if you so much as think about it. NO FUCKING LAST-TIME IMPROVEMENTS!" Roland rumbled.

"Technically it's already too late since I'm thinking of it now." The Mage scuttled backwards as Roland swung his axe in his direction. "Hey I won't, I won't!" Duncan couldn't help grinning. It felt so good and he loved these men, his brothers, his family. Without thinking he sought Riordan, naturally he found nothing but the usual Taint presence. Andraste's blood it stung! The grin faded from his face. He guessed he could have pressed the man to let him in but he was afraid of what he would find and feel, besides, what right did he have? They spoke and interacted just as normal, the only one who seemed to have noticed anything amiss was Roland. The Orlesian was also donning his helmet. "No fancy footwork Shrimp just stay on the right."

"I know, I know." Taking a deep breath Duncan scanned the dark forest around them. The Spawn were angry snarls in his mind, mingling with the soft hum of his tainted Brothers and Sisters. There was no need for silence so he shouted, "Twice as many, two Emissaries, two Ogres! Keep them away from the arches and mages and watch out for the Shrieks!" The banter that had been kept up until now faded. The air seemed to quiver with tension.

There was a roaring whisper and Duncan had just enough time to duck before a fireball struck Amaury's magical shield shattering with a deafening crash in a shower of flames. The warriors crouched instinctively as the shield buckled and shimmered in all the colours of the rainbow. Even now Duncan found himself groaning at Amaury's highly individual flair for whimsy. Another fireball hissed towards them. This time the shield melted away but not until the fireball had broken apart. Fire rained down, the ground all around them smouldered and smoke rose as the forest seemed to spew Darkspawn. They howled and snarled in mindless hatred. Caught in the rage that came off the Spawn the warriors roared back in challenge and met them in a deafening clash of metal against metal.

Spinning and dodging Duncan cut through the creatures; their stench mingling with the smell of burning. The air filled with shouting and the twang of bows. Through it all came the high pitched wails of the Shrieks. The ground erupted with darkness right next to him, causing him to jump back and lash out at the flowing beast. Its claws raked over a pauldron leaving groves in the leather before the Shriek crumpled around his sword.

The thick presence of the Ogre rolled through his Taint as somebody yelled, "Watch out!" Arrows rained over the lumbering beast whilst Roland, Vittorio and Guilbert moved around its feet hacking and slashing. Duncan was about to run to their aid when he felt another wave. It seemed the ground heaved under enormous feet of the second monster. With the heavies already busy Duncan ran forward to distract it, roaring his own challenge. The Ogre lowered its horned head and attacked.

-ooo-

Cursing wildly, Riordan watched Duncan dance out of the way of the Ogre's path. The beast turned with surprising agility, churning up earth and rocks and took a swipe at its enemy. It bellowed in rage and pain as Duncan danced around it, cutting the thick blue hide, trying to hamstring it. Riordan spotted Vittorio and a few others running towards it. He fired again only to hit a Genlock who managed to get in the way. Riordan squeezed his eyes shut. He was too tense, rushing too much. This was _not_ where he was supposed to be. Taking a deep breath he raised the bow again.

Even above the din of the battle he heard the wailing of Shrieks moments before they materialised next to Duncan, distracting him. The Ogre kicked out and he went flying, landing bonelessly in the bushes. 'No! No no no!' Numbness froze Riordan to the core. "Bring it down, bring it down!" he bellowed as he let fly and missed. Cursing he notched another arrow only to realise the Ogre was already falling, an arrow jutting from its eye socket.

"Got it!" He turned to find Alyse right next to him, smiling triumphantly. "Creme de la crème or did you forget?"

Dropping his bow Riordan drew his blades and sprinted towards the quieting battle. A few arrows whizzed past him as he cut through any spawn blocking his path. The closest he got to being killed was diving past Roland's swinging axe. The big Orlesian let out a string of curses but Riordan barely noticed in his attempt to get to Duncan. Amaury was already there. Riordan landed on his knees, skidding in the dirt.

"Heal him, I'll do anything!" he croaked.

Amaury grinned. "He's fine. A bit bruised, a few broken bones, that's all."

"Fine?" Riordan stared in disbelief at the unconscious Duncan who lay sprawled untidily on the ground. He was covered in gore and dirt.

"Fine! I've patched you up from far worse."

Riordan was only able to breathe in and out as he held his fingers to Duncan's throat, feeling the steady pulse. Eventually he echoed, "He is fine." still not quite able to believe it.

Amaury shook his head smiling. "Told you so. 'Anything', really? What if I had been one of those people who asked for your life or something?"

"It would have been a fair deal." Riordan mumbled as he unthinkingly brushed a few strands of hair from Duncan's filthy face.

Amaury rolled his eyes. "You are so dramatic. And they call _me_ weird."

Finally Riordan was able to look up. "Who does?"

"Why, you do!"

"Yes, yes but who else? Give me names."

"Do you think I'm weird Pony?" In Amaury's face there was nothing but wide eyed innocence.

"We all are. You're better than most." Riordan clapped the mage on one bony shoulder. Amaury grinned.

The sudden quiet told Riordan the battle was over, not that he would have cared either way. Looking around he noticed Alyse being carried past the fire with an arrow in her shoulder. Guilt hit him like a blow. Not only did he owe her for saving Duncan, he had abandoned her in mid battle. Not very leader-like that. How the fuck did Duncan _do_ this? "So I need one more favour." He stood.

"Anything?" Amaury grinned at him again before hollering for assistance to take Duncan to the camp set up further away.

"Don't push your luck Sorry. This way.

-ooo-

Alyse opened her eyes to the soft crackle of a fire and the low voice of the man that was tending it. Looking around she noticed the camp was filled with grey dawn light and mist. Being half undressed she waited until Duncan had dismissed the sentry before sitting up. He tactfully turned his back when he realised that she was struggling to get dressed beneath the blanket. When she indicated that she was ready he handed her some food and a canteen. "Here." he said softly.

"This is kind of familiar." she groaned.

"Try not to make a habit of it. One day a Spawn will get lucky." He smiled briefly before once again turning his attention to the fire. He moved stiffly and carefully. She regarded his profile in silence as she wolfed down her food. It was sharp just like the man, a fine beaked nose steering his thoughts like a rudder.

"Where are the others?"

"Ah, most of them headed down to the village to get drunk and so on. You all deserve a celebration. There's just us wounded and a few sentries left." Duncan grinned suddenly handing her another piece of meat. "Healing does that to you but don't forget to drink too." A bit embarrassed she downed half the contents of the canteen in one go and tried not to feel disappointed that Riordan wasn't here. Duncan chuckled as she made a face at the mead. Weakly she smiled back.

"I heard that you saved my hide today."

Alyse squirmed under his earnest scrutiny. "Oh, it was nothing really."

"It meant something to me though."

"Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't. You're a fine archer." She caught herself preening at the praise. The word was Duncan was a hard man to please but fair. If you got praise from him you knew you deserved it. "I'm glad you and Riordan patched things up." At her blank stare he smiled and explained. "There aren't many secrets in the compound."

"Oh, I see." Weak as it was the mead was beginning to get to her head. "I'm glad too. Too bad we are both lousy lays." Seeing Duncan's nonplussed expression she hurriedly added "It's nothing, just a private joke." The man regarded her sharply for a moment. She was relieved when he changed subject.

"You're Fereldan. What brought you here?"

"Family problems. I don't want to talk about it if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." There was a thoughtful pause whilst Duncan watched her intently once more. He seemed to reach some kind of decision. "You know, you and Riordan have a lot more in common than you think." She wondered bitterly what that could be but resisted the urge to ask. Duncan caught her off guard as he continued, "Are you happy here, I mean in the Wardens?"

"I guess. Though I still feel desperately inadequate sometimes."

"We all do. Some of us are just better at hiding it. All you can do is keep fighting." She watched him as he stared into the fire. Sadness hung around him like a cloak and she wondered why. The mission had been a success as far as she knew. Abruptly he nodded towards the empty bowl in her hands. "Can I get you some more?" She was beginning to feel woozy, 'squiffy' her mother would have said. There was a pang of sorrow.

"No, no thank you." Duncan nodded and took the bowl.

"Then you should sleep, we both should. Prerogative of the injured." The smile was warm.

As Alyse felt herself drift off she wondered why she couldn't have fallen for Duncan instead. She didn't know him that well but he seemed kind and honourable and strangely unattached. Father would have approved. But it was no use now.

"Why can't you just stop loving someone?" There was a long silence. Just when she thought Duncan was asleep his disembodied voice came from across the camp fire.

"You're asking the wrong person."


	62. The Wedding

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Zillion hugs to Fenzev and Shakespira for still hanging in there. :D

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><p><strong>The Wedding<strong>

Cheers echoed through the orchard when Riordan finally shoved the hairy fist of the bodyguard down into the candle. The man yelped and red in the face with exertion, yanked it back swearing. He rubbed his knuckles, eyes darting in the direction of his employer. Without preamble Riordan stood and headed for the rather stunned looking merchant to claim his price. It wasn't entirely without amusement Duncan watched the ensuing argument. The bodyguard WAS massive so no doubt his loss came as a bit of a chock. Eventually the merchant threw his hands up in defeat and moments later stalked off in a huff with his brute in tow, followed by jeering.

Riordan ambled over the table, carefully waiting until the pair was out of sight before massaging his arm with a rueful grimace. "Blight that was close!" Snatching up his mug he tossed back the last of his drink and flopped down on the bench. Even now Duncan couldn't help noting how Riordan kept his distance. Weeks ago he would have happily squeezed in between Duncan and Guilbert, making room if he had to. Any amusement Duncan might have felt during the arm-wrestling evaporated. Maurice, a sly old fox with a full beard who had served with Roland as honour guard in the Val, clapped Riordan on the back while Vittorio made a face as if he'd smelled something rotten.

Swallowing his bitter thoughts Duncan toasted Riordan together with the others. "Thought you said you weren't interested."

"I discovered he had something I wanted." Duncan waited for Riordan to elaborate but he didn't. He was just about to ask when Guilbert interrupted.

"Look at that! Roland is letting his wife pick food off his plate."

They all stared towards the table where the bride and groom sat. Despite the meal having gone on for some time now it was still laden with food. Now at least it was possible to see the happy couple over the mounds. "Maker be damned!" Duncan stared wide-eyed. "I think you are right. He must be sitting on his hands."

"Nope." Riordan said smugly leaning back. "At least one is under her skirts."

"Maybe SHE is sitting on them." Maurice laughed. "Speaking of which, where did the women get to?" There was a certain lack of feminine presence Duncan had to admit. When the arm-wrestling began he guessed most of them had snuck off towards the music he heard playing from the farm yard. Not that he cared all that much. He'd had hopes for this wedding, that the festivities might take his mind off the steadily mounting panic. That he finally would get an opportunity to talk to Riordan beyond an occasional blandly friendly exchange. So far he'd failed on both accounts. He was pulled out of his glum reverie as Maurice abruptly stood. "Hang on a moment!" He leaned forward across the table. "That's not Blighted fair! That one was mine!" They all looked in the direction he was glaring, just in time to see Amaury being almost carried off by one of the serving girls, a beautiful and robust looking woman. She was laughing and holding him in a tight grip as they disappeared deeper into the orchard.

"Another worshipper at his altar." Duncan mused. "I've heard Weddings does that to women."

"Not only to women." Vittorio groused. "Why are WE still sitting here like a bachelor herd?"

"Because we are sad lonely fuckers nobody wants probably." Riordan replied helpfully while filling his mug from a keg on the table.

"Speak for yourself Bastard." The Antivan rose just as a line of dancing women came into sight, trailed by the musicians. Crowds of drunken revellers, mostly randy admirers by the look of them, followed and Duncan immediately recognised Jade leading the dancers. Her face was almost split in two with a smile almost bigger than her. Evidently she'd gotten bored waiting for her male colleagues to come and join the fun and had taken matters into her own hands. It took longer for Duncan to recognise Alyse and Beatris since he had never seen them with their hair down. Jade left the dancers and bounced over to Duncan and the others, giving Riordan and him a quick kiss before surprising everybody by dragging Guilbert off to join the dance, his feeble protests convinced nobody. Vittorio and Maurice quickly followed.

"And then there were two." Riordan mumbled against the rim of the mug. "Here's to us!" Duncan automatically responded to the toast and quickly finished his cider. This was his chance.

"Come." He stood.

"Dancing? You continue to surprise me Ratboy." Riordan cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not so bad actually but I have my doubts about you."

It was with some effort Duncan forced down the nervous lump in his stomach. "Don't be an ass...please."

Riordan sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Fine, where?" At this small capitulation Duncan indicated a large Cherry tree some distance away, almost hidden in the dark.

"I need to talk without a dozen others around. You can do that much for me can't you?"

"Of course." Riordan rose and re-filled his mug. Duncan followed suit, he would need it. That polite attitude was one he knew only too well.

-ooo-

They settled against the trunk of the cherry tree, not touching, but there was only so much space around the tree and Duncan felt Riordan's presence as if they did. The sounds of revelling floated towards them in the blue, grass smelling dusk. Even so the absence of firelight made the spot feel private, just the way he wanted but still... How did you beg forgiveness for the unforgiveable? Tired of the thoughts that spun madly in his scull he blurted, "I hate this! I've already said I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can do or say."

"Why do anything?" Riordan replied lazily before tilting his head back to regard the sky. The memory of that same throat bared for his teeth did nothing to calm Duncan.

"Because... Blight, you know very well why!" In hindsight it might have been better to leave this for when his head wasn't swimming with cider and whisky but Riordan was such a slippery fucking eel and this was the first chance in ages Duncan had had to pin him down. Now he felt himself crack like an egg and was unable to stop it. _'Why do anything'_. "Piss and blood Riordan!" He clenched his hands around the mug, they shook. How could the best moment of his life have come to this? "I did the wrong thing but there have been times when you have as well."

"You've been keeping tally? Good, since I sure haven't."

"That's NOT what I meant. What I'm trying to say is that I'm getting very tired of fighting you each bloody step of the way. Give me an inch at least you miserable bastard!"

Riordan regarded him with narrow eyes. "You may want to repeat that. I don't think they heard you in Antiva."

After a deep breath Duncan spoke through clenched teeth. "So this is it. In years to come we'll be sitting around like two fucking bookends watching everything slip away, nothing changing, not having...anything...

There was a definite strain to Riordan's voice now. "That what you think?"

"Maker be damned. Yes!"

"Understood! Can I be dismissed now?"

"Yeah, why not? Walking away is what you do best after all." Duncan spat the words like a challenge, half expecting Riordan rise to it like he had in the past. It came as a surprise when the man abruptly stood.

"Fine! You might want to put that last remark on your side of the slate though."

Duncan knew he should say or do something to stop him withdrawing but anger and pride fettered him. Let Riordan stew for a bit he thought viciously. Anything he could think of saying right now would probably only make matters worse anyway. He wasn't proud of himself.

-ooo-

Riordan only halted when his feet told him he was standing in water. After having turned his stomach inside out in the small pond he sank to the damp ground. There was a strange symmetry in being empty physically as well as emotionally. He'd almost forgotten how words could hurt so much worse than blows. He pressed his palms to his temples. Of course Duncan was right, Duncan was always bloody right! He dug his fingers into his skull. He had always known this would happen. This was the punishment for leaving yourself stripped of all defences. That was fucking love for you.

He let his arms fall to the sides and looked up at the sky, the moon was nearly full. What he COULD do was to go back and throw himself at Duncan's mercy but what would that accomplish except, and that was a best case scenario, buying some time. _'I'm tired of fighting you'_. He was tired too, tired of emotions, tired of hope, tired of having his heart clogging his throat with fear. Maybe the best thing was simply to go back to the party, get drunk and get laid, if such a thing was still possible. At least he would live up to the expectations of the majority. Carefully he rose, rinsed his face and mouth before heading towards the sound of laughter.

-ooo-

"Hey Maurice. Did you get lucky?" Riordan sank down on the bench next to the other man.

The warden grinned drunkenly and in greeting raised a bottle of the moonshine that had been so generously passed around all evening. "Always do, it's the beard, I'm telling you. Why don't you grow one? Just look at Duncan. Only has a sorry excuse for one but he landed the biggest fish of them all."

"Alyse?" Damn! Riordan nearly bit his tongue off.

"The Archer? Are you blind? No, that blond cousin of Roland's wife, the one with the enormous…"

"I noticed her yes." Riordan cut him off rather brusquely and snatched the bottle out of Maurice's hands.

"Hey, easy there!"

Ignoring Maurice he took a good swallow of the spirits. She WAS just Duncan's type. To the Black City with Duncan!

Blithely Maurice continued, "That woman kept turning away every man but the moment she saw Duncan, whoosh, like a cat in heat! It's the beard I tell you. The rest of us stood there gaping like fishes while he just scooped her up."

"Mm, good for him!" That bitch was something extra, even Riordan recognized that. Probably another bloody widow with kids. _'I always wanted kids. We're like fucking bookends.'_ He took another swig. Come on do your job! _'Never having anything...'_

"Any luck yourself?" Maurice's cheerful words cut through the frantic thoughts.

"None whatsoever."

"Grow a good beard son, grow a good beard."

Having had more than enough of the conversation Riordan stood to reach across the table for something new to fill the void inside him when someone suddenly crashed into him from behind. He was instantly grateful. Finally a victim to vent some of his spleen on! Turning around to send the offender flying, he recognised Alyse. Beatris was a few steps behind; they still had their following of various males. It took him aback when Alyse grabbed him clumsily by the arm and announced, "I've found my man so you can have the rest all to yourself." She laughed. She must be really pissed. He put his arm around her to steady her.

"I'm not so sure that man wants you." Beatris waggled her finger. "I think he needs something more advanced." She stepped towards him and Riordan couldn't help but admire her. Her hair seemed to float around her like a cloud, charged by lust. He was almost about to reach for her when Alyse cut in with challenge in her voice.

"He wants me alright, he just isn't smart enough to have realised it yet."

Riordan guffawed in surprise and hoisted Alyse up. "Is that so? Her answer was locking her legs around his hips. Quiet Alyse, Alyse the observer, the woman whose name he had just blurted out as the most desirable. Having her strong legs wrapped around him was very distracting which was just what he needed right now. Still... He caught her chin so he could look straight into her eyes, anything else would have been cowardly. There was courage there, desire and a silent plea. He leaned in to whisper. "Are you really sure this is what you want? You could have ANYONE and almost anyone would be better for you than me." In reply she kissed him. Exited cheers and cat calls broke out. He grabbed her thighs, adjusting her better against him as they deepened the kiss. It was unexpectedly pleasant. When they broke off both were breathing harder. He felt remorse for what he was going to do to her but not enough to hold him back anymore.

"Where?" she mouthed. Riordan set her down and wracked his brain. The main building was probably full. There was the hayloft but that would be crowded.

"I know a place but its outdoors."

"That's what we're used to, you and I." She beamed at him. Quickly Riordan grabbed two blankets from a pile left for chilled guests before taking her hand.

"This way."

-ooo-

Not wanting to disappoint her he let her take the lead as soon as the blankets were on the ground. Where she touched him, he touched her, where she kissed, he kissed her. She seemed to think it was a game. While her hands and mouth didn't trace lines of liquid fire on his body like Duncan's, there had certainly never been a woman whose caresses he had enjoyed more. He even found that pleasing her augmented his own desire. When her hair slid across his stomach he had to grit his teeth not to groan out loud and when he saw her outlined in the pale light of the moon he was able to say with perfect truth that he had never seen a woman so beautiful. He wished from the bottom of his heart he hadn't known what love was; otherwise he would have thought this was it. Her love was a gift when he needed it most and he didn't know how to thank her except by trying to make her feel loved in return.

Afterwards, when she fell asleep with her head on his chest he drew the blankets tightly around them.

_"You should be sleeping." His mother sits down heavily on his bed. Roughly she grabs his chin and turns his face towards the light. "You have his eyes Demon child." There is no way to stop the protesting wail from the bundle he's hiding. His mother snatches up the baby, cradling her against her chest. "Hush." Turning accusing eyes on him she hisses, "What were you doing with your sister?"_

_"She was crying!" he protests weakly but mother's attention is all on the baby now and she gives her the breast against his father's orders. He doesn't add that he simply wanted to shut her up before she drew unwanted attention. He cares not one whit about her._

_"That's for the nurse to take care of."_

_"I couldn't find her." A lie. He did, and got a slap for disturbing her together with the armourer. She is kind otherwise so he won't rat her out. _

_"Stupid boy." Mother says but he can tell she isn't angry anymore. He chances a smile._

_"She's always calm with me. I think she likes me." 'Do YOU mother? Do you like me? Please tell me you still do.' he says, but only in his head._

_His mother smiles at his sister but speaks to him. "Would you kill him if I asked you Demon child?" There is alcohol on her breath._

_"Yes."_

_She musses his hair. "You're a good boy, a good boy." He's relieved. She loves him still._

The woman in his arms moved restlessly. He tightened his grip on her briefly which seemed to calm her. Uncharacteristically wide awake he listened to the sounds and breathed in the scents of the early morning. This was how he and Duncan should have spent any first night, unfettered, alone. Not like that frenzied desperate tumble in that Maker-awful closed-in space that reeked of whore and lavender, where the only right had been Duncan.

This woman, Alyse. His initial intent to use her like all the others had turned into something else. Some of Duncan's virtues must have finally rubbed off on him. He thought at least he hadn't let her down. Nevertheless he was glad he still had that elven bow he managed to win. It was always intended for her but even more appropriate now. A small price for how he planned to use her, as a shield against any urge to go running back to Duncan. What she didn't know could never hurt her right? And he would make sure she never found out. Duncan would be free the way he should be, to achieve what he wanted in life without having Riordan trailing behind him like an anchor. There would be pain on both sides, just thinking about it felt like claws ripping Riordan's insides, but it would pass, he had to believe it would. What he was doing was for the best, for both of them and not too bad for Alyse he told himself.

Turning on the side he buried his face in her hair, the scent was not the right one but not unpleasant. He wondered if Duncan was just now doing something similar.


	63. The women

**A note**: Co-written with Gaspode5. This chapter was the hardest yet. Inspiration just dropped dead. Thank you for your infinite patience. Hopefully next will come easier. FenZev, Jaden and Shakespira, you are most preciousssssss.

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><p><strong>The Women<strong>

"You lucky slut! Gimmie all the dirty details." Alyse's arrow went wide as she staggered sideways from the force of Beatris' attack. The woman was all broad grins and wickedly twinkling eyes making Alyse groan, her hopes of escaping this particular line of questioning brutally dashed. The only reason it had taken this long was that the Orlesian had been away on patrol.

"No way." She grinned hugging her back.

"Unlike you, not everyone wants to share every sordid detail of their love life. Not to mention it tends to get a bit repetitive after a while." Clarice said calmly as she aimed her bow. Alyse stared at the mage, usually they let Beatris have her way, it was easiest. Beatris just laughed.

"Having it on with that scholar has done wonders for you."

"He's a fine man, intelligent, charming, well endowed..." Clarice fired, actually hitting the target. "Yes, very satisfactory." she continued with a secret smile. Alyse snickered as Beatris patted the mage on the back.

"We've created a monster." She sounded pleased. "Now spill it Alyse!" With a sly grin the warrior picked up a crossbow and began fiddling with it, obviously just for show since she was busy ogling the small group of men practicing archery a bit further away. "Nice view but I don't see your catch anywhere."

"Andraste's ass, stop staring! They'll know we're talking about them." Alyse hissed.

"Come on now Alyse, the man is practically dripping sex. You cannot deny me this!" Beatris' voice became a whine.

"I can and I will." Alyse had expected Riordan to be much more assertive, she wouldn't have minded that. Instead he seemed grateful to follow her lead and on the precious few occasions he didn't, was almost apologetic afterwards. In fact he was much less easy around her since they became a couple, but that would change in time she told herself. As she ran her hand over the beautiful elven bow he had given her a few days after their first night, she felt rather smug, especially now when she knew that Riordan had never had Beatris. Something she had kind of taken for granted. "He is very...satisfactory."

Beatris took a swipe at her and she jumped back laughing. "You're both fucking hopeless." the woman grumbled. "You an item or what?" That was a much more difficult question to answer. Were they? There had never been any spoken understanding but as far as she knew Riordan didn't sleep with anyone else. Then again, what did she know? From the very beginning he'd made it clear that he had no interest in her past and expected her to show no interest in his and they never discussed the future. Other than that he always seemed happy to see her. She had heard the stories of course, the whores and drinking, the fights, but to be fair, ever since she had first gotten to know him he'd seemed no worse than most.

"Hey wake up." Beatris waved her hand in front of Alyse's face. "Let me put it this way; if I made a pass at him, would you throw a fit?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"No." Alyse said slowly, running her fingers along an arrow. "There would however be a rather unfortunate accident here at the butts shortly after." The other woman didn't seem to be listening but was looking past her again, openly ogling the other Wardens.

"Why don't we challenge them? First to fifty."

"No bloody way!" Alyse snorted. "You suck and Clarice isn't much better. This was met with an impatient eye roll from Beatris.

"Andraste's tits, you really _are_ a lost cause! Nothing makes guys as horny as winning." She waved at the men who were grinning back.

"Bea," Alyse groaned. "I'm taken, remember?"

"So what? Don't see your man around, besides, you DO know the rumours about him and Duncan, right?" She suddenly got something dreamy in her eyes. "Imagine them two…"

"What of it? Even if it used to be true, the past is no concern of mine." It came out more defensive than intended.

"No archery accident for Duncan then?" The look on Beatris' face was entirely too innocent.

"No." It seemed the other woman was about to comment when the horn sounded for assembly.

-ooo-

It was amazing how all cares seemed to pour off him as he entered the backyard of the house he now shared with Peach, his wife, his family. Roland stopped briefly to take a deep, happy breath and grimaced at the stench from the kitchen refuse. "Oi, brats!" he bellowed.

They came pouring out like porridge. "Roland, Roland, Daddy!" He laughed as he scooped up Peach's two eldest, Marie and Henri, tucking them squealing beneath one arm and put Gaston, the youngest on his shoulder where he clung like a burr. "You ready?"

"YEEES!"

"You sure?"

"YEEEEEEES!" He spun them until they begged for mercy while the dogs ran yapping around his feet. Gently he set Marie and Henri down.

"Have you been good to your mum?"

There was a chorus of, 'Yes, Yes' ending with a 'No'.

"Squealer!" Marie pinched Henri while Gaston confided from his perch, "I have been a very good boy." Roland patted him on the leg. Maker he loved these kids! He shook them all playfully. "We'll sort that out later. Now where's your mum?"

"In the shop of course." Marie slithered out of his grasp to glare at Riordan. "That card trick you showed me doesn't work!" she said accusingly. Roland suppressed a smirk. Riordan was not a children's man but got along by simply treating them like small adults. "You must be a slow learner. It works for me." was the wry answer which happened to work perfectly for competitive Marie.

While Alyse hovered in the background, Riordan squatted to greet the two dogs. One was a huge, slobbering Mabari-like creature currently named Beast, whilst the other resembled a mangy rat more than anything else. They were both Roland's fault, or so he'd been informed. When the kids had dragged the mutts home begging to keep them, he'd added his voice to theirs. Peach finally agreed that having a guard dog might be handy once she got the shop running and 'Ser Rat' kind of came as part of the bargain. Scratching Gaston's head Roland revelled in the feel of the boy's arms around his neck and left Riordan to sort the ins and outs of the mysterious trick. Roland would make damned sure Marie demonstrated it later. There had always been the feeling Riordan had more than his share of luck at cards. In that magical way children sense they do not have your full attention, Gaston pulled at his beard.

"Daddy?"

"I'm not your father, you know that, you're nearly four now."

"Marie broke a plate because she was mad at mother."

"Did she now?" Roland could very well imagine that. "Let's wait a bit and see if things settle down by themselves." he hugged the little body one last time before putting him back on the ground. "Shall we get inside?"

He stuck his head through the drapes to peer into the shop and managed to catch Peach's eye. She winked at him before turning to her assistant. Leaving the lad to show off the bale of fabric to the customer she joined them in the back room with the new seamstress in tow. "Ah Riordan, how did you like the tunic? That dark green is perfect for you." she smiled.

"Told you you got screwed there. Just looking at it would give anyone except possibly a Fereldan a rash." Riordan grumbled. A snigger escaped Roland. His friend was none too happy playing 'clothes horse' to Peach but she bypassed it by simply pretending she didn't notice his wariness. Surprisingly it worked. Peach cursed, Roland had never met a woman who could curse so vividly.

"Linen working out all right though?" he asked in the hope of diverting her.

"Yes yes." Peach made a great show of studying Alyse from head to toe. "You're Riordan's woman right? Can I borrow you for a moment?"

"Why, yes I guess." Alyse glanced uncertainly at Riordan who just shrugged.

"Sure." He said. A hopeless case Roland decided. The man really was asking for trouble if he wanted to get laid tonight.

"Great! I have this wonderful dress in colours that will look perfect on you. The fabric is a special wool and silk mix from Nevarra and I already have a customer interested. I just want somebody to show it off that does it justice. "

"Ah, I don't know...It's really not..."

"Don't be silly. You will look great and Riordan will want to tear it off you. Besides, there is more of that fabric and I thought a nice blouse for you would be the perfect thank you gift." Peach slipped an arm under Alyse's. With a final glare towards Riordan who was rubbing Beast's belly, Alyse allowed herself to be ushered away. It was obvious Riordan had just lined himself up for a serious case of blue balls tonight.

Roland watched the woman being steered towards the stairs followed by the seamstress. Distantly he heard his wife say, "You are _totally_ wasted on this lot." Silently he agreed. He indicated the door to the backyard. "Take the bloody dogs with you!" Peach's voice drifted down from above.

As Roland made a beeline for the cellar door across the yard he heard Riordan mutter behind him, "So whose clever idea was this?"

"Please, give me some credit." Roland huffed. "But to tell you the truth, Peach has been all over me since she met Alyse at the wedding. I just wanted a chance to nail you down." As he pushed the cellar door open the smell of earth, slightly decayed vegetables and the sweetness of mead wafted towards him. The dogs barged passed him as he lit the lantern. Ascending the creaky stairs he heard them sniffing around for rats. He filled two generous mugs with mead and handed one to Riordan who sniffed it like another dog before sipping it appreciatively.

"Nice. Yours or Peach's?" He leaned back against the wall but the relaxed attitude didn't fool Roland.

"Peach's. So what the fuck are we going to do? Mathilde goes to her Calling, Abelard replaces her, no bloody surprise there - but Joy as second? Maker be damned Riordan!" Some of the revelations during the assembly had been expected. Mathilde had been in charge many years and was definitely looking worn. Awful Abelard was a stuck up shit but a noble, the tax payers would be happy and at least it took the man off the battlefield. As far as Roland was concerned, making him Commander was damage control. Vittorio was a different matter. Roland's fists itched to beat that smug look he'd seen on the Antivan's face out of him.

"I know. You think I'm happy about this?"

"Nope, I think you like it even less than me. Question is, what do we do about it? Andraste's cunt! How did he even get that position?"

"Probably buggered Abelard 'til he couldn't think straight."

"Now there's a vision I could have done without." Roland shuddered. "And I didn't like how Joy snatched Ratboy away afterwards, doesn't bode well." At that he studied Riordan closely but there wasn't even a flicker of anything on the man's face, if possible it was even more expressionless. In Roland's opinion that spoke its own language. He didn't like where Riordan was heading recently, back to the way he used to be, withdrawn, cold. If he harboured the notion that Duncan would just buckle up and solider on because Riordan turned his attention elsewhere, he was off his rocker. The idea to just fill the man up and get him plastered was very tempting but Roland had been dragging a pissed and miserable Duncan home a few nights now and scoping up the wasted remains of these men was becoming a depressing routine that led nowhere. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "But let's leave that for now. What's this all about, really? I mean, you and Duncan haven't travelled an easy road but since I've seen it all I'm not going to pull my punches here. If you think you can't take it - get out."

"What If I do?" The other man kept calmly sipping his mead. Perhaps making good on his threats and bang Riordan's head against a wall wasn't such a bad idea, Roland thought sourly.

"We are what we are. That's not the point."

"Then what is?" The wall was definitely looming.

"Look I'm probably the one who know the two of you best. I remember the time you hated Duncan."

Riordan's honesty took him by surprise. "I never hated him. I was afraid of him." Of course he had been. The smell of blood drew predators and caring made you bleed.

"Whatever. Despite that, something grew that was so strong I swear it would have been impossible to put a knife blade between you two without injuring both."

"That was a mistake. It's been rectified." It was as if with every heartbeat Riordan faded back into the gloom of the cellar, yet the man was right there and handed over his mug for a refill.

"Rectified how? By using that lovely lass?"

"You're overstepping your bounds."

Roland was finding it more and more difficult to hang on to his temper. "Am I, or are you simply too chicken shit to hear the truth?"

"What truth? Mine, yours, hers…?"

"Yours would be very interesting."

There was a sudden gleam in Riordan's eyes that reminded Roland of that the man would make a very bad enemy, then just as suddenly it winked out. Riordan's voice was flat when he spoke.

"Duncan finally got tired of me, that hit me hard and she was available. Does that satisfy you?"

For a long while Roland just watched him scratching his chin. "You're very good. That kind of disarming half-truth might have worked with someone else." he said eventually.

"It was worth a try."

"Does Duncan actually buy that crap?"

"Sometimes. Or he pretends to, I don't know which. I fucking don't know anything anymore." It might have been Roland's imagination but he thought the hand Riordan ran through the hair was trembling. He wondered how much it would take for the man to actually break.

He took the mug from him and refilled it. "You and I were a team long before Duncan arrived on the scene."

"I remember."

"That still holds. I love both of you but if I have to choose it'll be you. Not necessarily because I think you are in the right but because you took pity on me when no one else did."

"Don't get sentimental. I was probably on something." Riordan clenched and unclenched his empty hand.

"No you weren't and making light of it doesn't change anything."

The other man pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I think I'll just let things slide for a bit. I'm so fucking tired Runt. " There was weary desperation in Riordan's voice.

Roland squeezed the other man's shoulder as he handed the mug back; it was all he could think of. "I know Shrimp, I know.

They returned from the cellar in silence, Riordan perhaps a bit more glassy-eyed and relaxed. Other than that there were no outwards signs of the mead Roland had been carefully pouring down him. As he ushered the man through the back door they were met by an enthusiastic Peach.

"There you are! You got to come and see this." With that she spun and bustled off towards the kitchen. She could bustle almost as well as she swore and Roland watched her swinging hips appreciatively. In the kitchen she stopped and swung out her arm in a grand gesture, smiling with the pride of an artist presenting the perfect creation. "Gentlemen!" Alyse was standing in the middle of the floor looking embarrassed. She was dressed in some russet and orange creation that looked very posh. Roland knew he'd have to choose his words carefully or HE would be the one not getting laid tonight.

"Wow, you've outdone yourself!" He smiled at his beaming wife, then slapped Riordan hard on the back. "And you're a lucky dog, my friend." He meant it. Alyse was very beautiful. Peach had pinned up her hair, the long sleeves covered the long muscles on her archer's arms and the cut showed of her very nice figure even if Roland personally preferred a bit more meat on the bones.

Once Peach had ushered her creation off to put some finishing touches to it, Roland turned to Riordan. "Hey Pony you're white as a sheet, all your blood go to your dick or what?"

"No." Riordan shook his head, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. "She reminded me of someone that's all."


	64. The other bastard

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Fenzev, Shakespira and ThelonelySeeker, well you know already.

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><p><strong>The other bastard<strong>

Crouching by the edge of the roof, Duncan stared down into the backyard far below. It was lost in darkness, rather like his life. It would have been so easy to just let himself topple forward. He imagined he would keep falling forever instead of landing with a pathetic splat. But that wasn't his style. He was the dependable one, apparently. Taking another mouthful of spirits he stood to make his way towards the chimney. To his left Montsimmard stretched out, a scattering of lights from torches and braziers, like stars; to the right, beyond the city walls, more darkness. The world was getting pleasantly blurry again and he found that he needed to concentrate on keeping his balance; as good an example as any that a drunken thief was a dead thief.

Finally he settled with his back against the warm chimney and thought of the night Riordan had followed him here. He wanted to be angry with the man but every time he tried, guilt rolled in and doused it like so much water on a fire, leaving behind only bitterness. He drained half the bottle in one deep pull. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be enough booze in Orlais to stop the guilt, or fill the space where Riordan had been. Duncan consoled himself with that at least up here Roland wouldn't find him, the nosy bastard. Absentmindedly Duncan rubbed his aching hand; perhaps he should have stayed around to let the Orlesian turn him into a fine paste. It would have made for good distraction but right now he wanted no one near, least of all a friend. He finished the bottle and tossed it into the night. Fumbling somewhat he pulled out another bottle from the satchel and carefully set the satchel aside. It wouldn't do to break the remaining bottles or he would have to climb down to get more. If he had any say in the matter he soon wouldn't be in any state to do so.

-ooo-

Having wasted most of the night searching every dirty hole he could think of and finding no trace of Duncan, it suddenly hit him; he'd been thinking like himself. Riordan wanted to bang his head against the wall. "Andraste's cunt, of bloody course!" He stared up to where the roofs of the houses disappeared against the night sky. He KNEW where Duncan would seek refuge. His memory of that place was crystal clear for several reasons, most of which he didn't want to dwell on. The exact location now was a bit of a challenge. He scanned for the others but the only one he felt was fucking Vittorio. He was on his own on this one, just what he deserved.

Starting at the Red Gryphon he followed the dirty back lanes he'd followed with Duncan years ago. Every so often he stopped and reached out with his Taint but got nothing. It was frustrating and worry began to poke him in the back. It wasn't impossible that Duncan had left Montsimmard altogether. It hadn't taken him long to discover that Riordan had traded away his place in their next mission to another Warden and judging by the state of Roland's nose the discovery had not gone down well. Duncan could look after himself but apparently he was pissed as a newt when he broke the Orlesian's nose and now he'd been gone several days. What would Riordan have done had he been around at the time, rather than busily keeping out of Duncan's way on his traded mission? He didn't know.

Again he looked up but it was little use. In this part of town the lanes were so narrow it wasn't likely he would be able to spot someone on the roofs. A small shaggy mutt streaked past, startling him. The beast was carrying a large rat in its mouth. The damn animal was luckier than he. He intensified his hold on the Taint and added a Call. Nothing. Looking around in the almost darkness he thought he recognised the backyard and the lean-to shed. It was even more dilapidated than last time and the ground seemed to heave as rats scattered before him. There -finally! With a sinking heart he glared up at the tall building next to the shed.

"You fucking moron, get down here now!" He bit down on the rest and instantly wished to take back what he had just said, but anxiety made him angry.

"Riordan?" Duncan's voice was hoarse.

"No the Blighting Archdemon, who else?"

There was a short, slightly manic laugh. "Hah, tha's a good one! Very funny."

With some effort Riordan kept his temper in check. "I don't suppose you would consider continuing the conversation somewhere else, eh please."

"Forget it! You don't want to be here. Great! I don't want you here so FUCK OFF!" Duncan rose and took a swig from the bottle in his hand. He swayed precariously making Riordan wince. This was getting from bad to Maker fucking awful. This wasn't Duncan.

"Stay put and sit down, I'm coming up. Maker's balls – SIT!"

"Just leave me alone. Why the Blight do you think I'm in a place like this?"

The door next to Riordan was suddenly pushed open and a belligerent face peered out. "Stop this racket or I'll set the dogs on y…! Riordan's hand squeezed the man's wind pipe hard. Ignoring the wheezing sounds he kept his eyes on the figure that hovered high above. Duncan took another swig from the bottle. With a resigned sigh Riordan returned his attention to the man he was choking. "Get back inside and stay out of this!" When the door slammed shut he realised it was probably too late to ask for a ladder.

The building was ancient; with half-timber walls offering plenty of cracks and crevices. An agile ten year old could probably climb the blighted wall like a cockroach. He considered calling some of the others but this was Duncan, there was no choice. Wiping his already sweaty palms on his thighs, Riordan took a few steps back. "I'll never forgive you for making me do this! You realise that yes?"

Getting up on the shed roof was the easy part. Taking a steadying breath, he jumped for the eaves of the house.

"Keep your eyes open or you'll fall." There was absolutely no emotion in Duncan's voice.

Gritting his teeth Riordan reached for the next handhold. "Then we'll know for sure whose bloody fault it is won't we?"

As he trembling and sweating finally reached the roof, Duncan took pity on him and grabbed him clumsily. Riordan was painfully aware he had counted on it. Duncan, always there, always reaching out, ever... Don't go there, its history. Once he was up the hand immediately let go. Straddling the top of the roof Riordan scrabbled forward until he made it to the relative safety against the chimney; just below jutted the roof a dormer window, thankfully hiding the gaping void beneath. "So, happy now?" he snarled. Duncan was perching some feet away like some Blighted Gargoyle. In the grey light that had begun to touch the world Riordan saw the glint of the bottle. Greasy tresses of hair hung down in the man's face. His usually warm eyes looked like holes and judging by the state of his clothes he'd been up here ever since Roland tried to haul him out of The Red Gryphon. Riordan had seen men like that before, usually in the mirror.

"Why are you here?" Duncan sounded genuinely confused and a bit peeved.

"You know damn well I nearly wet myself getting here and you're asking me WHY?"

The other man blinked and shook his head. "S'ry, don't get it." He drank." Want some?" He held out the bottle as if knowing there was no fucking way Riordan would leave his place and reach for it.

"No!"

"Won't even drink with me anymore. That's when you know... that's when you really know." Duncan lurched to his feet yet somehow his toes seemed glued to the tiles. He tossed the bottle down into the street. The sight made bile rise in Riordan's throat. "What I did... I don't blame you for wanting nothing to do with me; it's just that I..." Duncan took a shuddering breath. "Maker I never thought you'd hate me so MUCH."

"Sit down for Blight's sake. Get your ass over here and we'll straighten things out." With a sinking heart Riordan watched Duncan starting to pace instead.

"Screw you! If I wanted to talk to somebody who don't care I'd talk to myself." He sounded more tired than angry.

"Just come over here. Please, this is ME begging."

Duncan threw his head back with a bitter bark of laughter. "Ha! You know, not so long ago that would have made me... but I know you, you care about nothing and no one! I just wouldn't listen." The words trailed off in a mutter, "Stupid, just a stupid rat..." Then he threw his arms wide and spun as if to embrace the world. "THIS is where I belong, King of the roof! The rats love me, pigeons bow to me..." His heart plummeted further as Riordan realised booze wasn't the only thing driving the man. The world twisted in his grasp. HE was the weak one yet inexplicably here Duncan was, coming apart before his very eyes. The man began to pace again, seemingly unaware of where he was. "I should never..."

Hadn't he bloody known it! Luck like that had to run out. Stunned Riordan watched Duncan flail at empty air. Without knowing how it happened he was sliding down the mossy tiles, gripping the man's arm with one hand whilst trying desperately to find something to halt the slide with the other. His fingers tore against the tiles as he scrabbled for purchase, sending burning pain up the arm. Finally he managed to dig in and they came to a sudden stop. Duncan's legs were already dangling over the edge. The grating sound as the tiles shifted from the stress was thunder in Riordan's ears.

"Hurry up for Blight's sake." he ground out. The tiles creaked ominously. When there was no reaction from the other man Riordan opened eyes he didn't remember having shut and looked into two pits black with despair, again he was reminded of himself. Digging his fingers into Duncan's wrist he growled, "I know what you're thinking and by all the demons of the fade, if you as much as twitch in the wrong direction I swear I let go of the roof." Duncan continued to hold his eyes so he pressed his feeble advantage. "One of us might even be unlucky enough to land on the other and survive. Is that what you want?"

"No."

With that Riordan pressed his forehead against the tiles and waited while Duncan used his arm to pull himself up. He might even have prayed. Maker knew he had no reserves left. A rather painful tug on one of his legs brought him back to reality. Carefully he edged himself backwards snarling at Duncan each time the man as much as shifted his grip, to finally collapse in a heap by the chimney. "Next time you're a smear on the street, just so you know." he croaked, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

"Agreed." There was the sound of rummaging and, had he been prone to crying, Riordan would have wept when he felt a bottle pressed into his hand. Still shuddering he downed more in one go than he thought he'd ever managed before. He felt Duncan's hand on his back while he choked. He grabbed for the other man and refused to let go.

Duncan muttered, "We're good. No problem."

"We are NOT fucking good. You almost DIED you Blighted IDIOT" Riordan twisted the front of Duncan's tunic, shaking him.

"S'ry about that."

"Idiot!" After a final shake Riordan drank some more. Clinging to Duncan and the bottle with trembling hands he added, "And don't as much as twitch or I swear I'll knock you cold and drop you down the chimney."

"You're always angry when you're frightened." Duncan mumbled. He hesitated and looked away before continuing. "Had things been...you know...like they used to, I would have helped, like I did before. But they aren't, I know."

"Yes they are! It was YOUR bloody fault that time too." Riordan muttered in an attempt to avoid the subject.

The other man hung his head and refused to look at him. "Changed...my fault. Sorry." When he next spoke he fingered Riordan's hand, inspecting it like he'd never seen it before. "Always liked your hands. Sry, for...you know... everything." The last words hung fragile between them as Duncan let go and hugged his knees, staring into space. The daylight moving in showed far too much of the world for Riordan's liking and instinctively he pressed back against the chimney. Suddenly he found Duncan studying him with bloodshot eyes and pupils no more than pinheads.

With a sigh he said, "I'm sorry too. I guess I underestimated how much it would hurt to hear you say those things. I've been thinking along the same lines myself for...like forever but to hear you say it... I didn't realise I would react like that. Andraste's tits, hand over the fucking booze. I don't do this kind of talking when sober."

Duncan looked confused. "What, what did I say?"

"We're no good for each other, or I'm not good for you, I'm holding you back."

"I didn't say that! I mean...that's not what I meant! Maker Riordan, I NEVER regretted...us...you...

Swallowing hard Riordan cut him off. "It's best like this. What happened, it was...more than I could handle. I tried to tell you. I know no bounds when I'm around you. Alyse is better for us, Alyse is safe." As a declaration of love it was pretty pathetic but it was all he had to give and a lot more than he had ever given anybody else, or ever would. He regarded his hands, they were trembling, he clasped them over his head as silence settled over them again.

Finally Duncan whispered, "I'm so tired."

Now he looked into Duncan's eyes and saw the resignation of a man who'd given up any hope of finding answers. Riordan wrestled some levity past what choked his voice and snorted. "No shit! Really Duncan, you can afford better stuff." Reaching out he grabbed the hunched-over man and pressed his head down into his lap. "Get some rest. I don't even trust you to fall straight. I've got you. It's going to be all right in the end, trust me."

"Are we good?"

Gently Riordan stroked Duncan's back. "We've always been good."


	65. The End part 6

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Major thanks ++ to Fenzev, Jaden, Shakespira and thelonelySeeker for reviewing.

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><p><strong>The End part 6<strong>

"I'm not sure I can. It's been almost ten years and I'm still not willing to go there. Stupid eh?" Riordan shrugged, looking sheepish. Duncan knew that look. Riordan liked to present himself as rather daft and shallow. It annoyed Duncan the man would try it on him. He bit down on it.

"Eight years and eight months, give or take."

"Top me up will you." With a sigh Duncan refilled the glass waived at him. There wasn't much left in the bottle.

"You're trying to escape by getting wasted?"

"Fat chance. I've been running this conversation through my mind for, what was it, eight years and eight months and never ended up at this point."

"Same here if it's any comfort." Duncan regarded the other man who was staring into the fire, seemingly deep in unpleasant thoughts. When Duncan had first seen him amongst the visiting Orlesian Wardens he had felt fear and excitement. This was his chance of closure if not forgiveness. The hope of getting either was rapidly dwindling but there were other, more important things at stake now. Glancing towards the sleeping Alistair he grabbed the first lighter subject that came to mind. "I'm thinking about what you said earlier, that there was a time we could laugh together." He was rewarded with a slight upward curve of Riordan's mouth although the man kept his eyes firmly on the fire.

"At the most insane things."

Duncan nodded. "Roland on fire."

"Ha, I remember. He tried to put out the flames on his back with his axe and only managed to injure himself." Suddenly Riordan leaned forward almost eagerly. "Now here's a good one. Sorry got into trouble with the Jewel from Orzammar. You know Jade and Guilbert are still an item?"

"Really? Glad to hear it."

"I'm surprised the racket they make doesn't carry all the way to Ferelden. No Seriously! There was this time one of the guys badgered Sorry into setting up a shield, and he did." It was good to see the wicked grin that spread over Riordan's face now.

Grinning back Duncan asked, "So what went wrong? Spit it out man!"

"Well, Amaury did his best and then couldn't get the bloody thing down for two days, nor could any other Mage." Laughter burst out of Duncan like a spring flood and Riordan laughed with him. After a while he managed to struggle on. "I'm telling you, that love-nest didn't exactly smell of roses when the shield finally dissolved. I had to save Sorry from..., ah you know Jade, there's a lot of Dust town in her still." For the first time Riordan looked him straight in the eye, unguarded and smiling. It was as if the years of separation had never existed. Sadness twisted in Duncan's chest as the other man continued. "Actually, my first though at the time was; Duncan will love to hear this." He shook his head. "The time it took me to get over shit like that was frankly disgusting." Duncan figured this probably wasn't the time to tell Riordan about all the letters he'd written to the man in his own feeble attempt at exorcising this particular ghost, letters that were still burning a hole in a desk drawer in his quarters. In fact it would never be the time. Ignoring the pang of sadness, he tried to recapture the precious moment of levity.

"And Renna? You said you met her." Riordan snorted.

"In many ways she's the same as always, looks the same, just as scary. I can't believe how far we used to sneak off before we even dared to bad-mouth her, like a pair of total cowards."

"It was only prudent with her tendency to 'mistake' anybody who'd offended her for a Hurlock. You really slept with her?"

"Told you. She sought me out every time she was at Jader. Never understood why. Wasn't as if we had anything to talk about or even liked each other. She's a First Senior now but I got the impression she was lonely." Duncan thought of that time, far too many years ago, when he'd sought solace in the herbal garden. Renna of all people had been the one to try and ease his anguish then. _'I CAN do things just to be nice you know! I'm not inhuman.'_ He hadn't believed her.

"It's possible, I never saw her after Ferelden. I never... Blight how I missed the lot of you, even bloody Vittorio! There were...ARE good people here, but it was never the same, could never be the same." Duncan had made sure of that. It was too risky to share that kind of closeness with the people who now called him Commander. Alistair was an exception, for a bloody good reason.

"And that's supposed to be my fault I assume?" Instantly defensive, Riordan looked down at his hands that began turning the glass over and over. Riordan's hands, always busy when he was upset. The man sighed. "The closer to the end I get, the harder I find it to hate him. He's one of the few remaining who remember what it was like when we were young and stupid"

"You've made peace?"

There was a snort at that. "Blight no, we never will, but on my part the insults are mostly routine. Shit like that doesn't matter anymore. I guess it never did." Riordan leaned back with a sigh. "I owe Roland my life and I wasn't even grateful, if not downright abusive, and that's the times I can remember. Conscience usually kicked in after a few days and I'd go by their house with some gifts for the kids. They thought me wonderful and I could judge by the force Roland slapped the back of my head just how bad it had been. Afterwards he always invited me to join them at the table." He closed his eyes. Duncan could see him struggling with the next words. "When I returned he'd already been given to the fire. I keep thinking I could have saved him. Since then I haven't been able to stop thinking about what he said." Riordan touched his amulet. "I'm not saying he got everything right, but this part, seeing you again suddenly made perfect sense." He shook his head ruefully. "I should retire. Soon I'll be drunk enough to say things I'll regret." Duncan had to suppress the urge to ask what that could possibly be considering the things that had already been said. Instead he prodded carefully.

"You wanted to talk about her."

"I thought I did; now I'm not so sure. I'm glad we met after all these years; we should have done it sooner. I..."

"She was special, smart, beautiful, warm..."

"She was." Riordan swallowed hard before continuing. "'Was'. I bloody hate that word. What she was, who we were, what she meant. The way we..." He held his glass so hard his knuckles turned white and Duncan feared it would shatter. The urge to go over to him, to comfort with more than words was overwhelming. Once there had been no need for words, now it was all they had.

"Easy there, if you don't want to, we'll leave it."

"I don't know Duncan. I just don't know! Guess sometimes I'm still waiting for you to tell me what to do." Riordan threw the empty glass in the fire, making Duncan wince. "Every fucking year I go there. Each time I plant flowers but since I don't know what she liked I try a different kind. The place looks like something Sorry magicked up when doing Stalkers Spit.

"Foxgloves." Instantly Duncan regretted saying it.

"What?"

"Foxgloves were her favourites. She used to put them on her fingers and pretend they were fancy Orlesian hats."

This produced a bitter chuckle. "You knew her better than I did."

Silently cursing himself Duncan said gently, "Maybe you just didn't listen."

"Maybe."

"I'm sorry."

"This again! Sorry for what? For understanding, for listening, for being everything I was not?"

"I don't even think that's true but if you insist, all of it I guess."

"It was my fault too; I just wasn't ready to admit it. So much easier to blame you for everything. I'd say we're good. It's probably too bloody late but I can finally admit it." Sinking back into the chair again, Riordan fell silent. It seemed there wouldn't be a better opportunity so Duncan took a deep breath to steel himself.

"I need to ask you a favour." The tense pause was followed by a harsh bark that might have been laughter.

"Maker Duncan, for a while there you almost had me! I'd forgotten what a sweet-talking con-man you can be. I've been played because you need a favour?" Horrified Duncan shook his head.

"Maker no! It's not for me, it's for Alistair. He will need guidance...someone to trust and you're the only one who knows..." Riordan cut him off, the words oozing sarcasm.

"Right, taking care of others is certainly one of my strongest points. Spill the beans to someone else; preferably someone who gives a shit. Anyway, why? He's got you."

Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Fate hadn't exactly smiled upon this meeting so far. Defeated Duncan said, "I've had my Calling. It could be months, even longer before I have to go but Alistair may need more time than I have. So much damage was done to him." Holding his breath Duncan watched Riordan's face go blank, his eyes turn hard.

"So you asked about my Calling and let me insult you earlier so I would promise you anything later." The man's voice was utterly without expression.

"Fuck no! Riordan..." In a few heartbeats everything had gone from promising to disastrous, leaving him floundering.

Riordan stood jerkily. "Save yourself the trouble. Alistair is a man grown and I'm out of here." At the door he hesitated. "May you find your way in the dark." The door shut behind him. Duncan carefully put his glass down on the side-board. He felt worn and exhausted, as if he'd fought a prolonged battle. In a way he guessed he had, and lost. He lowered his face into his hands and whispered,

"And you, always."


	66. The gift

**A note: **Co-written with Gaspode5. This chapter was a pain in coming, thank you all for your patience. And the extra special treatment to Shakespira, Fenzev, Jaden and TheLonleySeeker. Ah well here goes...

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><p><strong>The gift<strong>

Ileen let out a breath she had been unaware of holding as the Grey Warden in front of her waved her to the side. Quietly seething she huddled together with the too few remaining inhabitants of her village. She was a vessel and rage filled her with liquid fire. She raged at the spirits of the marsh, the Maker they had been told cared so much, he and his whore Andraste couldn't care less who lived or died, most of all she raged at the Wardens because they were here, stalking through her village, finishing off what the monsters had begun. Rage was good, pure, and kept the...other at bay. She spotted one of the Cray kids crying, little Geordie, just a toddler he was and from the look of it none of his family was coming back. She caught the kid, saying everything would be all right, but it wasn't, would never be again.

Until a few weeks ago Darkspawn had been the foulest monsters in their darkest tales, tales you told naughty little children. The legends said they once came from the southern wastelands of the Western Approach. Then the stories came to life as the monsters were belched forth by the marshes. Nobody cared where they came from then. When the Grey Wardens arrived with their steel and gleaming armour the cheering had known no bounds, even though there weren't many left to cheer. The villagers were fishermen, not warriors.

She watched Toby and Giles being directed to their homes together with two of her cousins. Each time one of the Wardens mumbled 'I'm sorry', like some sort of mantra. Initially there had been bouts of crying but eventually it petered out into numb silence. Shifting the child in her lap Ileen looked around. Old folks, a few women and children were all that remained of her people. Almost everyone involved in their pathetic struggle and not killed on the spot was being herded inside. Legends spoke of the corruption brought by the monsters but time had distorted memory. How many would have fought had they known the real price to pay, she wondered, the madness and the slow loss of everything that made them human?

A laugh clawed across her senses. Two Wardens were exchanging jokes as their tension eased. Hatred scorched her insides. There was a screech, a feral alien thing. Suddenly she was tearing at chainmail and blue cloth so hard her fingers bled. There was a glimpse of startled eyes; she wanted to rip them from their sockets. Cursing mingled with the wails from Geordie as strong hands yanked her away. She hit the ground so hard it winded her. "Stop! Stop this right NOW!" It was a woman's voice. Arms wrapped around Ileen who struggled blindly. "Easy! It's all right, I won't hurt you. Easy there, shhh..." The voice was low and soothing. As suddenly as it had claimed her, the fight poured out of Ileen leaving her drained and trembling. Geordie was there, crying and trying to climb up in her lap. The woman let her go and she hugged him. Dazedly she watched as the female Warden stalked over and slapped one of the men, hard. "Show some fucking respect you assholes!" she shouted. She was like one of the beautiful Earth spirits painted on the wall in the chieftain's house, all wild hair and black flashing eyes.

The man she hit glared belligerently at her and snarled, "You little cunt..." She slapped him again. His face twisted in rage but the other man caught his arm to murmur something in his ear, too low for Ileen to hear. The female Warden spat, "I can fight my own wars!"

"Sure you can. No offence." The cautious one began to drag the other away just as a dark skinned Warden with a ponytail emerged from the chieftain's house. It was the grandest of them all with carvings all along the outside walls and paintings inside, yet he had to bend almost double to exit. Even had Ileen not seen him quietly giving orders to the others previously, she would have known him as the leader. The woman strode up to him and there was a low but heated exchange until he suddenly raised his head to look around, his eyes immediately falling on another approaching Warden. This man had cold eyes and long black hair pulled back at the temples.

"Any more?" the leader asked.

"Two. Their families tried to hide them. It's done" At the words Ileen felt a sharp pain in her chest. She burned it away with her rage. The female Warden looked stricken.

The leader dipped his head slightly. "I see, thank you Riordan. He sounded tired, or perhaps it was Ileen's imagination. How hard could it be, killing the sick and defenceless?

Cold-eyes watched him intently. "Anything else?"

"Get me Sorry. Tell him to bring all Wolfbane he's got, I'm out. Then get everybody together. I want to be well away from here before the remaining Spawn are drawn to us." Cold-eyes stepped away, then stopped. Looking out over the water he spoke quietly.

"Do you think Joy or Awful would have done better? Think again! You did what you could." The female Warden looked angry and seemed about to protest when Cold-eyes grabbed her brusquely by the arm and stalked off leaving Leader to study the surroundings and flail uselessly at the mosquitoes that hovered in clouds around him.

Ileen tried to imagine what her home might seem like to him. A few families that eked out a living where no one sane ever would. They lived on fish and the small insect like creatures that scuttled across the bottom of the ponds. Tiny houses, no more than shacks, on poles against the damp. The ever present smell of the tar that coated the walls, of fish and the smoke that turned its silvery scales golden. It was a veil flowing around the houses and floating over the black ponds. Right now the low afternoon sun coloured it bright yellow, it seemed a mockery. Ileen started as Leader squatted next to her. Geordie whimpered and burrowed into her chest. "I mean you no harm." The Warden said softly.

"There's no more harm you could do, even if you tried. They are all gone, all that made it possible to live here." She did not know where she found the courage to speak such words to this man, perhaps in his eyes. "To you they were just bodies, to us..." Looking down at his hands the Warden began to recite quietly,

"Toby, Giles, Marcel, Emme..." Astonished she listened. Finally the man raised his head. "We can escort you all to the nearest town, if you want."

"To become what, slaves in the rich people's houses, if they would have us? To be sold as whores, to beg on the streets, living like rats. That's not a life!" There was a spark in the Wardens dark eyes, then it was gone.

"I agree. What do you need?"

"Steel."

"I'll see what I can do."

-ooo-

"Riordan checked carefully that no one was within hearing before he released Alyse. She rubbed her arm and he had a sudden vision of bruises, like blackened petals on his mother's milky skin. Angrily he shoved the memory aside and concentrated on the woman before him, glaring at him with eyes promising murder and chin stubbornly raised. She was never more desirable than when she was angry. Perhaps that was the reason their arguments nowadays tended to end with him pushing into her against the nearest surface.

"I had a distinct feeling you were going to blurt out Warden secrets for everyone to hear. We have a job to do. Want to moan about it, do it later."

There _is_ a cure. You know it, Duncan knows it!"

"And what would we do with a bunch of fisher-folks?"

"Some might have lived to be trained, you son of a bitch!"

"And the others?"

"The others?"

"The old, the sickly, the unskilled, what would we do with them? Leave them to become beacons for the next Spawn attack. Would you want to bring that down upon your family?"

Now he saw the uncertainty in her eyes but she refused to back down. "They could be housed in a safe place."

"And just how long do you think our supply of Arch-demon blood would last if we were to hand it out to everyone? Blight, this is why juniors shouldn't be chosen for these missions!"

"And you're such hard bastard this is nothing to you?" Alyse snarled.

_'As the last breath is drawn he's handed a flask of something not strong enough together with a slap on the back. "Well done lad, very few your age have it in them"." Look at that sorry lot over there, that's how it usually ends." Riordan turns his head to see Duncan and Vittorio heaving their guts up against a tree. Funny, he had expected the gutter-rat to be tougher. This new difference between them reinforces his feeling of self-loathing. He hates the other man for shoving it in his face; the ability to feel the pain of another, the will to care. Handing the flask back he shrugs. "Some are born weak."'_

Riordan took a deep breath. "It was long ago. I don't remember much."

"But Duncan, how can he be so...so cold?"

It was difficult to keep his voice down now. "Don't you ever judge Duncan by your standards. He feels every death as if it were his own. Probably knows their bloody names too."

Alyse took a step back. "Always Duncan, always you take his side."

"Bullshit!"

"Yes you fucking do! If the two of us were drowning you would bloody save him first!"

"Never!" Even as he vehemently denied it he knew it for the truth it was.

"Yes you would!" Now he heard the tremor in her voice, as much as she battled it. Shit! Desperately he tried to stem the flood of disaster.

"Not a chance. Have you any idea how much he weighs in that armour?" There was a stunned pause then he saw the corner of her mouth twitch. He wanted her to be happy, truly happy. "Look, I'm sorry. This place is a Maker fucking disaster; nobody expected it to turn this bad. Tell me how to fix this...please." Carefully reaching out he smoothed her hair.

She sighed, leaning into his touch. "Just say I'm right and you're wrong."

"I'm right and you're wrong." There was a snort of laughter as he pulled her to his chest.

"You're a Nug's ass." She slapped him on the arm.

"I know." Riordan glanced in the direction of the village and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. "That's enough sweet talk. Get your ass moving before anyone thinks I'm favouring you."

"I bloody well hope you are!" was the parting words as Alyse headed off to gather the archers.

-ooo-

Riordan lay on his back watching the mosquitoes hover above his head. Say what you would about Sorry but this stuff really worked, didn't smell half bad either. One of the precious few niceties about being second in command was that you weren't assigned a watch. Of course he could be woken any time if there was sign of trouble but other than that he had both time and tent to himself.

Alyse was off to apologise to Duncan. She'd been at it quite a while now. Suddenly Riordan had this vision of her and Duncan making love. It was a bittersweet thought. Alyse would have been perfect for him and Duncan's commander's tent was too empty. The way he'd fought the Spawn earlier made Riordan uneasy. Luckily Sorry was a good healer.

Riordan flopped restlessly over on his side. Piss and blood, why couldn't he just sleep! He _could_ check the men, only he already had. He _could_ sort through his arrows - again, and he would be damned before he started sharpening his sword, that was Duncan's thing. If he had thought Alyse would have agreed he would have suggested sex earlier but he could tell she wasn't in the mood.

-ooo-

Alyse pulled him from his half slumber by squeezing down by his side. "You were right, talking to Duncan was... good."

"I think I said it was up to you." Riordan moved aside to give her some more room but she just wrapped herself around him and rubbed her nose against his chest. No space needed. There was a thoughtful pause. "He's a good listener. A bit Stubborn though." Somehow Alyse's hand had wondered up underneath Riordan's tunic. Her fingers traced patterns on his stomach, sending little twinges of tension down into his groin. It was better to concentrate on that than on Alyse's prattle about Duncan.

"So are you."

"Hah, that's what mother always said. Bet you were a proper little pest too, causing your mother nothing but trouble." It was weird how Alyse always tried to bring up her family, and his. What did they matter now and why did it always lead to this prodding?

"I did nothing of the sort."

"You never talk about your childhood."

"That's because there's nothing to talk about. I was sweet and timid. Now shut up or go back to Duncan." Suddenly he found himself looking into Alyse's dark eyes, almost black in the firelight that seeped through the canvas. Her short nails were digging into the soft skin of his thigh. All thought rushed southwards.

"Did you have any si... " Time to end this discussion. He tipped her over and muffled her startled yelp with his mouth. As her hands tangled in his hair he wished they were strong enough to force tears from his eyes and bruises on his skin. He squashed the vision like a mosquito and buried himself in her.

-ooo-

That precious peace that usually followed release didn't last long beyond the moment he spilled into Alyse. After she finally had curled up next to Riordan and slept, he lay listening to the night, unable to stop his thoughts from wandering in the direction of the man only paces away. Frustrated he untangled himself from woman and bedroll alike and wriggled out of the tent. He needed to take a leak anyway. Fires and braziers created a pool of warmth and deceptive safety all around the camp. From the larger tents where the rest of the Wardens slept rose a chorus of snores. Riordan thought he could detect Runt's distinct hootings. He nodded at one of the guards and looked towards Duncan's tent. It glowed against the darkness from the light inside and he saw the outline of the man himself, hunched over something, maps or reports, still awake. As Riordan relieved himself against a tree it suddenly struck him he'd not seen Duncan sleep since they left Montsimmard. Always he was studying maps, writing reports with painstakingly slow care, talking to his men or just sitting with them. The broken, vulnerable man Riordan had seen on the roof was gone, or so it seemed. Riordan's steps faltered as he passed Duncan's tent once more.

_'He and Duncan exchange glances and taint, sending reassurance and a promise to talk later. At such times they never actually speak much though. Instead Riordan sits quietly behind Duncan who stares into the fire until only the embers remains and feels Duncan's nearness seep into his bones, chasing away the restlessness battle always leaves behind. If the other man cries he politely pretends not to notice. Finally Duncan turns and brushes a kiss against his forehead which Riordan always takes as a sign that he can leave. Maybe he is wrong, maybe.'_

Anyway it was too late now. After their love making Alyse had continued musing about her conversation with Duncan and chided Riordan for his monosyllabic answers. Jokingly she accused him of being jealous. He denied it of course and it was no less than the truth. He wasn't jealous of Duncan, he was jealous of Alyse.

-ooo-

Ileen found herself with twenty blades of varying sizes and shapes, two bows and twelve silver. All reclaimed from the Darkspawn, which felt just and right. She was ashamed she had no fancy words to thank the Warden with. If the Darkspawn struck again they were dead, but if they didn't... Well, she would make this the most prosperous fucking fishing village in Orlais. All that metal! She tried to calculate how many hooks and fishing spears they could make out of that. There was an insistent tugging at her skirt and she looked down. "Ily, I'm hungry."

"I know sweetie, we all are," she raised her head to look after the Warden leader, the last to disappear in the morning mists, "but we won't be for long."


	67. The Vagary

**A note:** Co-written with Gaspode5. Cold-snow-nosed-winter hugs to Shakespira, TheLonelySeeker, Fenzev and Jaden.

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><p><strong>The Vagary<strong>

"Maker's breath!" Duncan threw his bow to the ground. "This is bloody impossible!" With a badly disguised smirk Alyse continued to place one arrow after another in the centre of her target.

"Maybe you should try a crossbow, no skill needed" she teased.

"So I've been told _already_!" Duncan grumbled, sitting down heavily next to Maurice.

Swallowing the core from the last of the apples the man said, "She's right you know." Already a bit embarrassed about his outburst, Duncan shook his head and retrieved his bow.

"I know she's bloody right." He glared at the man next to him. "Who asked for your opinion anyway? You've been here all afternoon without as much as stringing a bow."

With a yawn Maurice flopped back against the fence. "Got a bad shoulder, everybody knows that. Besides it's going to rain soon."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Rain is bad for old bones." The other Warden leaned close. "You sharing her?" He nodded towards Alyse.

"What?"

Maurice leered, showing off his few remaining teeth. "You and Pony, you taking turns with the lady or both at once?"

Duncan groaned. "Maker's balls! Is this the latest gossip?"

"Nah, well...yes, a bit." Maurice did manage to look a bit sheepish. It didn't fool Duncan. "Can't help but notice you spent a lot of time with her while Riordan was away, that's all."

"Well wipe that thought from your twisted little mind or I swear I'll do it for you."

"Sure, it's just..."

"Now!"

The older Warden grinned unrepentantly before turning his eyes back to Alyse. "Nobody would blame you if it was true."

"Maurice!"

"Yes yes!" The older man threw his hands up. "I know. Grisly end and all that." It was very hard to dislike Maurice. He had supposedly taken his Joining at about the same time as Ser Eric but showed no sign of heading for his Calling. The word was that he was too lazy. He was right though; Duncan and Alyse HAD spent a lot of time together while Riordan was in Orzammar with Jade and Amaury.

Very few would complain about having a beautiful woman seeking out their company but for Duncan it was a mixed blessing. He liked Alyse, he really did and for Riordan's sake if no other, he was anxious to befriend her. Unfortunately, in between dodging questions he felt were Riordan's to answer if he so wished, Duncan found himself constantly reminded of the man while looking at his woman; a gesture, the slant of a cheekbone. It was impossible not to imagine them together. As much as he told himself he was happy for Riordan, it always hurt which in turn made him annoyed with himself for being a selfish bastard. He really wished she didn't seek him out quite so often. While Roland had grudgingly forgiven him for the nose incident, Peach made it clear she had not, making it impossible to hide out at their place. Even so Duncan found himself pitying Alyse. She tried to hide it but was obviously concerned about Riordan and Jade. There was little he could do about it but she had his wholehearted sympathies.

Looking down at the bow in his hands he knew he was behaving childishly. The frustration at being left behind whilst Riordan was sent off to recruit was seriously getting to him. But Vittorio had insisted, declaring that Duncan was needed here to plan long term strategies. He'd attended a number of meetings where there had been much wine and not so much strategy planning. When Sancha invited him to her bed he accepted just to take his mind off things. From the way she held and kissed him afterwards he could tell she knew it for the sham it was. Not his finest moment, he should have known better.

Riordan and Jade had returned with no less than three recruits 'Ready to go with 'Warden' tattooed on their asses', as the man put it. Duncan sighed. Time to pull himself together and this was as good a place to start as any. With a groan he began picking up the arrows he'd tossed on the ground.

"Done sulking?" Alyse's voice was wry. Damn the woman, did she have eyes in her back?

"Sort of." Pain hit him. It took everything he had not to gasp. Luckily Alyse had her back turned and Maurice was snoring. "Where's Riordan?" he squeezed out as casually as he could.

"I don't know. He and Amaury were supposed to do something 'very important' and he made it very clear I wasn't invited." Alyse let loose another arrow.

"I see." Struggling to see through the fog of pain Duncan just couldn't think of an excuse to leave and eventually gave up. "Back in a minute." he croaked.

As he neared the stables a fresh wave of pain struck him, making him groan and stumble. He stopped dead in his tracks to catch himself against the wall. When he was able to, he reached out with the Taint to pinpoint Riordan's exact position and began to run, ignoring the surprised looks of his fellow Wardens. The pain kept burrowing into his bones and fear surged. What the Blight had the stupid sod gotten himself into now?

Skidding around a corner Duncan spotted Riordan hanging suspended in the air as Amaury slowly circled him. The mage was carefully, almost gracefully drawing glowing patterns in the air as if weaving a web of light around the other man. Every blood vessel was starkly visible against Riordan's pale skin and his mouth hung open as if he'd frozen mid-scream. "Stop it! Stop it now!" Duncan yelled. Recoiling Amaury lost the grip on his spell and Riordan dropped bonelessly to the ground. He began to convulse. Too numb with fear to think Duncan fell to his knees and pulled his head into his lap shouting "Do something!"

"But...it's not finished yet." protested Amaury.

"NOW!" With a sigh the mage touched Riordan's chest and murmured under his breath. Riordan suddenly fell still. Without taking his eyes off him Duncan grabbed Amaury by the front of his robes, yanking him close. "If anything is wrong with him..." he growled.

Amaury babbled nervously, "He volunteered. I had this idea and..." Riordan's forehead crashed into Duncan's as the man suddenly sat. With groaned curses he clumsily rolled onto his knees before staggering upright.

"_Maybe a bit painful_ you said! Maker..."

At last Amaury began to look a little bit worried. "I'm sorry. Was it really that bad?"

Riordan stumbled back against the wall and collapsed. "I feel sick." Duncan watched in horror as a bright stream of blood began to flow from his nose and one ear. He hurried over, trailed by Amaury who seemed to immediately forget his temporary concern.

"It's working! It's working!"

Duncan grabbed Riordan's neck forcing it down between his knees. _Undo it!_

"I can't. Oh it's stopping already." Amaury looked crestfallen. "Guess it isn't perfect yet."

"Guess it bloody isn't and never will be." Duncan snarled. "Now get out of my face before I kill you." After some frantic rummaging in his belt pouches he produced an old cleaning cloth. It was stained and greasy but would have to do. Pulling up Riordan's head he held the cloth to his face until he could take it himself. The man showed too much white beneath his eyelids so Duncan kept a firm grip on him.

"Thank you."

"You're both idiots. Did you even know what he was trying to do?" It didn't surprise Duncan when Riordan just shrugged.

"There are these eels who...never mind." Riordan put his head back between his knees. "Didn't listen too closely to the details but he had some idea about removing tainted blood." Torn between laughing and wanting to give both men a serious thrashing, Duncan just shook his head.

"Did it ever occur to either of you that you have to replace it with something?" Riordan carefully eased himself upright, forcing Duncan to reluctantly let go of him. It made him feel suddenly bereft.

"I assumed Sorry had a plan for that." At Duncan's incredulous stare he continued, "Come on, he wouldn't do anything that would kill me, at least not intentionally."

"Maybe not but he's called Sorry for a very good reason." Riordan was turning the cloth over in his hands as if examining it before he tossed it to Duncan. Frowning at the rumpled thing he smelled the reek of Taint, worse than any Spawn. "I'll be Blighted!"

"He's on to something, that's for sure. BUT if I piss blood for a month I'm taking it out on his hide." Riordan rose and pulled on his jerkin. "I need a drink." He swayed precariously before catching himself against the wall. Duncan had to clench his fists not to reach out to steady him.

"Look at you. You can hardly stand."

"That's why I need a drink." There was a pause where Riordan hesitated. The words 'I'll join you' tethered on the tip of Duncan's tongue but he held them back.

"I suppose that makes some weird kind of sense. Stay safe."

-ooo-

Years of cat napping in the streets of Val Royeaux had made Duncan a very light sleeper. He couldn't tell what had woken him but instantly wide awake he felt the Taint of another Warden, no not just a Warden... Leaving the dagger beneath the pillow he sat and peered out into the darkness. The light from the braziers that always burned all around the compound gave a faint orange outline to the mess of his room. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." said a disembodied voice. There was a slur to the words meaning Riordan was VERY drunk. It took Duncan a confused moment before he found the man's slightly darker silhouette moving unsteadily towards the window.

"You ok?"

"Fine, fine." Duncan had spent the evening berating himself for not joining Riordan for that drink. Now the man was more drunk than he'd been in ages and something had to be seriously wrong for him to seek out Duncan like this. Clumsy with sudden tension he finally managed to light the oil lamp by the bed. In the restless light he saw Riordan lean heavily against the windowsill, his head bowed. There were dark stains on his jerkin that shouldn't have been there.

"You're bleeding." He hurried over and put down the lamp. Not even when he ran his hand over the cut in the leather did Riordan look up.

"Yeah! Got sloppy. It's no big deal. Leather caught most of it."

"At least let me take a look, it could be unclean." There was a slight pause making Duncan grit his teeth in frustration before the other man gave a short nod. Duncan went to get some fresh water. When he returned Riordan was hunched over on the bed. He must have ripped the tunic from the wound since fresh blood oozed from it. With the lamp raised Duncan sank to his knees to inspect it more closely. The achingly familiar scent of sweat, leather and Riordan assaulted him. He caught a glimpse of blood shot eyes and bruised swellings on the cheek and jaw. As he got near, Riordan tensed but remained still. Such a small thing, yet it stung. Touching as little as possible he investigated the injury. "Not bad, cleaning it up and slapping some salve on should be enough."

"You drink to forget...but sometimes it just makes you remember. Things...you know what I mean?" Riordan's hands twitched as if grasping for words. "Like those things you said on the roof. I never bloody knew, I mean I never...and today. I should have known." Duncan didn't know what to say so he worked quietly to clean and bandage the wound. When finished he deliberated briefly with himself, his bloody conscience won out. "I'll help you to your room. If Alyse is there she'll be worrying."

"Probably. Guess I'm going to cause her as much misery as I've done you." Duncan dug his fingers into the bed frame until it hurt. "Your rules were always simpler...'shut up and lie still', I can do that." Riordan ran a hand over his face. "Maker I'm tired and make no sense even to myself. I understand if you hate me. Tell me to sod off and I will."

Answering the question Riordan would never ask, Duncan said, "I'm sure I can put up with you for one more night, but no boots." There was the barest twitch at the corner of Riordan's mouth.

"Sure."

When Duncan returned from disposing of the water and bloodied rags the man had actually managed to remove one. Duncan pulled the other off before quietly slipping into the bed. Turning his back on Riordan he drew the blanket over them both. There was a pause in the other man's snores and Duncan felt an arm slung across his chest. With a contented sigh he relaxed into Riordan's nearness. This moment he would steal for himself, he was a thief after all.


	68. The promise

**A note:** Long time no write, sorry but it's all my fault, no shadow should fall over my co-writer Gaspode5. Humbly grateful to Jaden, Fenzev, Shakespira, Lonelyseeker and Apollo wings for reviewing last chapter. This has been almost as hard as having a kid (well obviously not since it's painful to a degree you cannot imagine if you haven't been there but you get the gist...) Love/O

**Disclaimer:** Duncan and Riordan belongs to Bioware ...still.

* * *

><p><strong>The promise<strong>

Alyse splashed water on her face and rubbed it hard with a towel before beginning the calming procedure of braiding her hair. To avoid the sight of the empty bed she turned to stand at the window. Wardens were already spilling out into the courtyard, mounting horses, preparing for training, heading for breakfast. She spotted Duncan greeting some new arrivals. Probably important since both Vittorio and Abelard were present as well. She re-braided her hair until it was more than perfect. She was not.

With a sigh she sank down on the bed, Riordan's bed, she had no room of her own. She didn't know why but she had expected him to be careless and had been surprised his room was almost barren. No mementoes, nothing to give any clue about the person living here. She had the impression he could leave it behind with only the clothes on his back and never miss a thing. He could probably do the same with her she thought bitterly.

Falling back on the bed she buried her face in the sheets that still bore his scent, acutely aware of that he'd never made any kind of promise to her, not of fidelity, not of a future. It was something she had invented inside her head. She loved his quick smiles, ironic, lustful and sometimes a bit sad. She loved his lean, hard body and his hands, his sharp wit and observations that sometimes made her think and sometimes made her laugh. She hated the way his eyes changed the few times he spoke of Duncan. A thought suddenly struck her.

She took the stairs to the third floor in a few bounds, finally stopping outside Duncan's bedroom. She was right. There was no mistaking the familiar feel of Riordan's Taint. This was where she should stop. Carefully she opened the door. The sight of the man spilling out of the bed and the clear markings of another form on the sheets hurt enough to take her breath away. Heavily she sat down in the room's only upholstered chair, ignoring whatever it was she crushed, hoping it was precious. She closed her eyes against the burning. The bastard, THE BASTARDS! Did they take her for an idiot? Was the entire compound laughing behind her back? Taking a few steadying breaths she looked towards the bed again.

Riordan's arm was stretched out as if reaching for someone, she was bloody sure it wasn't for her. She wanted to kick his teeth in, break down and cry, run away. How long? Don't be stupid Alyse, she mentally berated herself, since bloody forever that's what! The Dales, the way she had become invisible the moment Riordan's eyes locked on to Duncan. Andraste's blood! Her temper flared. One of his feet was trailing against the floor. She nudged it hard with her boot, twice, before he rolled over groaning. "Alyse..."

"Ah, you remember my name, I should be honoured I guess." There was something endearing about the way he pulled the lumpy pillow over his face as if to shut everything out. She didn't want to be endeared. "I waited for you!" She hated how nagging it sounded.

"Can we take this later?"

"We could have, if this had been your room." The pillow was pushed aside. Watching understanding slowly dawn on him gave her some small satisfaction. He propped himself up on an elbow as expressions flitted sluggishly across his face.

"You've been injured" she added. "I hope it's painful."

There was a twist to his lips. "Not half as much as you wish, I'm sure. Alyse please, I'm not up to this right now. I'm not even sober yet." He ran his hand through the mess of his hair which promptly fell back in his face. The weak part of her wanted to bury in his arms. Instead she leaned back and crossed her legs.

"I don't give a rat's ass." At least she sounded calm. "You on the other hand might want to start with 'I was fucking Duncan' and we'll take it from there."

"Alyse, no. I'll say things I'll regret, I was drunk OK?"

"Sober enough to find your way home, or next to."

Riordan fell back on the bed, one arm over his eyes. "Fine, let's get this over with. Tell me what a piece of shit I am and get out of here."

"Does everyone know?"

She saw muscles working in his jaw.

"Why would they since there's NOTHING to bloody know?"

"You share a bed with another man on what I assume a regular basis and you to tell me it's nothing."

"If I was fucking Duncan do you seriously believe I would be doing you at the same time?"

Her first reaction was actually relief. Slowly she gathered herself and got to her feet. "I'm leaving." She hated herself for not being able to add 'you'.

-ooo-

A washed out sun was trying to penetrate the cool autumn haze. It did nothing to ease the raw chill and Duncan's mood sank further. It wasn't difficult to find Alyse's taint signature. Not that he needed it.

She fired arrows at the target with unusual fervour, barely taking time to aim, yet they all embedded themselves firmly in, or at least near the middle. He couldn't help but to question the wisdom of approaching an armed woman who suspected him of sleeping with her lover, which was more or less all he had managed to catch from Riordan earlier, that and the guilt.

Even as she spoke Alyse kept firing. "Whatever you have to say I don't want to hear it."

"I know it sounds like a cliché but it really wasn't what you think." Duncan said as gently as he could.

She rounded on him, an arrow notched. Even though the bow was lowered it was difficult to resist the urge to throw himself to the ground. "Damn right it does! If that's all you've got don't even bother." Looking more closely Duncan saw her eyes were reddened. Pity mingled with guilt.

"Please Alyse. I promise you he's NEVER been unfaithful to you." Normally the technique was to take a lie and wrap it nicely in lots of little truths. Right now Duncan wasn't sure what those truths were but he WAS fairly certain Riordan hadn't bedded any other women since he and Alyse became a couple. As for last night, that could hardly be called unfaithful, could it?

'_Riordan__'__s steady breaths are warm against the back of his neck. Carefully Duncan puts his hand on top of the one resting over his heart. It__'__s not so much falling asleep as drifting away in contentment.__'_"Let's talk."

Alyse snapped, "Can I stop you?"

"Yes." If she refused, all he had to do was walk away and Alyse's jealousy clashing with Riordan's temper would do the rest. He held his breath. With jerky moves she shoved the arrow back into the quiver.

"Speak your piece." Sighing with a mixture of relief and disappointment Duncan looked around. The other archers suddenly got very busy firing. Blight, this would keep the gossip going for weeks!

"Not here."

Silently he guided her to the orchard which was rarely used except in harvest season. She stared coldly past him as he pushed open the gate in the wall and stepped aside to let her through. The sounds of the compound faded. There was a smell of decomposing fruit and moist earth. Alyse stopped, crossed her arms and gave him a watery glare. "I'm waiting." Despite her anger and the traces of crying she was beautiful. He hated her for having been there for Riordan when he had not. He hated himself even more.

"We all have our demons and Riordan more than most. Sometimes when he can't fight them off he drinks and sometimes he comes to me."

"And sometimes you fuck." Alyse spat. _'__Strong fingers tangles in Duncan__'__s hair, digging into his scalp as Riordan pulls him closer...'_ Duncan had gambled and lost. Now it was time to pay his debt.

Softly he said, "No. Once I may have felt differently but Riordan...he never felt the same so we moved on." The words tasted bile and almost truth.

With fists clenched and the voice trembling with anger and hurt, Alyse stepped towards him. "If I wanted to hear more bloody lies I would go to Riordan!"

"Alyse, listen!" Duncan put all the sincerity he could muster into his voice. "Riordan and I have known each other for a very long time. We have been knee deep in mud, covered in Spawn filth, trying to patch each other up. He's the brother I never had, he's my family. So yes, I love him." While he waited for the meaning of this to sink in he thought of the weight of Riordan's arm slung across his chest. Drawing a deep breath he continued, "Besides, if he, we were lovers he would have no reason to be with you now, would he?" _'__Ayse is better...Alyse is safe.__'_ Mercifully that night on the roof was mostly lost in an intoxicated blur but those words, they rang clear like a bell. Alyse would never spy, never betray. The knowledge felt like acrid smoke in his chest.

"That's what HE said, only not quite like that." She sighed and leaned back against the orchard wall as she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. After a while she lowered them and stared into the distance. "I thought I was in love once but it was nothing like this. This...it's like a sickness, but good...most of the time. Realising he was shaking with tension Duncan sank down with his back against an ancient apple tree. A sickness, yes. It was too easy to imagine Alyse's hands on Riordan's body and worse, he could see Riordan smile that smile Duncan had always had thought reserved for him, as he reached for her. A sickness of the mind. "Have you ever been in love?"

"No, not really. The Order has pretty much been my life."

"He makes me feel free and safe at the same time." Yes, Duncan thought, he does that. He didn't want to hear anymore. To his relief she continued, "Mother...she was always so afraid, didn't like me meeting people, going to the village, ANYTHING. I was so mad at her sometimes." The mentioning of her mother was a surprise. During Riordan's trip to Orzammar they had spoken about everything between heaven and earth but never about Alyse's family.

"She wanted to protect you." Duncan suggested. His relief at having succeeded in smoothing Alyse's ruffled feathers knew no bounds. If she wanted to unburden herself to him he was happy to oblige.

Alyse shook her head sadly. "I know that now. But then, it was so suffocating! It seemed every time I made friends she made us move. There was a boy I fancied... We argued about it and mother wanted to move, again... I convinced father we should stay. Then, one day when I came back from a hunting trip they were dead, mother...father...because we stayed..." The words trailed off in a whisper.

"It was hardly your fault. The world is a dangerous place and bandits are everywhere."

Rubbing her face hard Alyse took a shuddering breath. "In the village they told me the men came on horses and wore fine armour. They...hurt...mother and father before they killed them and didn't steal as much as a copper. Doesn't sound like bandits to me." She shook her head as if trying to dislodge the unpleasant memories. "It was my fault." Sniffing she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

'"_Bitches always makes mistakes...their screams still ring like music in my ears...I've searched for her in every woman with a black braid down her back and a small girl holding her hand...__"'_ It was hard to think over the loud thumping of his heart. Something sickening uncoiled in his stomach. THAT stubborn tilt, the vague sense of the familiar...No, no, NO! His stupid jealousy was playing dirty fucking tricks on his mind.

"Duncan? Are you OK, you look pale." It was his time to shake his head. When he finally managed to speak he was relieved to hear only calm in his voice.

"Let me talk to Riordan."

Abruptly she threw her arms around him. "I'm so sorry for being such a shrew. Thank you for being here."

He gingerly patted her back feeling ill. "Please don't thank me Alyse."


	69. The things we don't say

**A note:** Co written with Gaspode5. WOW I still remember how to publish on FF. The Maker is indeed formidable! There has been a lot of this and that and everything in between, mostly my fault. My Sincere apologies.

**Disclaimer:** Last I heard the characters still belong to Bioware

...

**The things we don't say**

While Abelard droned on with his speech Vittorio scanned the assembled Wardens. Even after endless rehearsals, which he'd dutifully applauded, it was still as puffed up and insipid as the man himself. He'd been all in accord with the Commander that the Wardens at Montsimmard were lacking in discipline. An example needed to be made. That was; until Duncan vehemently spoke up against it. Since then Vittorio had stayed carefully neutral. Not because he disapproved of public punishment, it was long overdue, but Duncan was respected, his opinion carried a lot of weight, something of which Abelard seemed oblivious. Besides, Duncan had been magnificent in his fury. 'Twenty lashes for drunk and disorderly! If that's his offence you may as well flog the lot of us, starting with me!' Luckily Vittorio had been able to talk Abelard out of that particular stupidity. Sourly he wondered how many years the man had left.

His private musings were disturbed by cries from the man led to the post. Orlesians, no fucking spine or dignity. You didn't die from a flogging and salting - unless you were weak. But that was what the Wardens had become, weak.

_'__The deafening noise of the spectators falls away the moment his eyes falls on the man flanked by the guards. His father, straight as a spear, head held high, gaze sweeping the crowds with all its formidable arrogance. For a moment those eyes settle on Vittorio. He searches his father's face for a sign of approval, a nod, anything. But the scowl remains and the gaze moves on. Anger and defiance stiffens Vittorio's back and he remains as they pass. There is no wailing, no pleading for mercy. The last words he hears his father speak are full of fury as he curses his enemies. Vittorio doesn't flinch, not even when the axe cuts the tirade short. For that he receives much praise.'_

This man was insignificant. The Bastard, now _there_ was a man Vittorio wouldn't have minded strung up by the post. He almost regretted sending him to midget town. Especially after he'd heard that the son of two bitches had been hauled out of Duncan's bed. He spent some time fantasising about how the whip tore strips of flesh from The Bastard's back until a particularly loud shriek interrupted him. Irritated he signalled to the guards to hurry up. With plenty of speech left Abelard was struggling to be heard above the racket. Vittorio wished the man would have the sense to cut it short, nobody paid attention anymore. The sun was setting. It would get cold soon.

-ooo-

Carel was a sorry sight now, his cockiness obliterated by terror. Guilbert didn't like the man, too much bluster. He was a good example of how lax the Wardens were in their recruiting, and how unpredictable survival of the Joining was. But having to watch a flogging did nothing to improve on Guilbert's already foul mood.

For months he'd dreamt of coming back here, of finding Jade and have her smile her wicked smile at him. He'd spent many solitary evenings in bed, when sleep eluded him, formulating what he would say to her, with care and attention to minute detail. In his imagination his little speech created the kind of result that in his lonely reality left him with an aching groin and even greater longing.

Here he was now but no Jade since Vittorio had seen it fit to send her, Riordan and some others off to Orzammar, again. It was no secret that Vittorio loathed, or feared, depending on who you talked to, Riordan. If only Jade wasn't so closely tied to him. There had been a time when Guilbert shamefully nursed a terrible jealousy towards Riordan and Duncan for having so much of Jades affection. The lurid stories about them and her, true or not, were difficult to ignore. It was a bitter thing to feel that way towards men he respected so much.

Little touches, a glance here, a word there from Jade eventually melted the jealousy away. Now it was merely a relief to know she had such formidable friends. So why had Guilbert wasted all this time not telling her how he felt? He was a fool, that's what he was! Time was a luxury they had little off. When Jade returned he would... something. The sound of the whip, punctuated by a scream, echoed across the yard and cut through Guilbert's musings. Well at least it put an end to the Commanders rambling speech.

-ooo-

Roland wished the man would stop his yammering. It was bloody hard to calculate the logistics needed to get Peach, the kids and their belongings to Jader even without that kind of distraction. Blight! No matter how he shuffled things they would need another two wagons and drivers. Riordan had already agreed to serve as a guard and he could probably serve as a driver too. Roland wasn't too happy exchanging Montsimmard for Jader but Peach was dead set on it and he loved her beyond words and reason so that was the end of the discussion. Especially since one of her reasons was her family's disdain for him.

Next to him Duncan was restlessly fiddling with the straps on his vambrace. There was a muttered curse as something broke. Irritated Roland hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "Stop sodding drawing attention!"

"What's he going to nail me for? Maintaining my armour?"

"Perhaps for ruining it?" Roland stroked his beard. "Pony hasn't committed to anything yet if that's what's bothering you."

"What?"

"Heard you were trying very hard to catch him before they went out, I assumed that was why."

"No, no that wasn't it. Wait, committed to _what_?"

"Lower your fucking voice! I asked him to accompany me and mine to Jader, and to stay. Maker knows I'll need help. He knows the place and don't ask me how, but he's got some fucking respect that counts over there. Have you seen my daughter recently? She's growing up way too fast and is already drawing looks. Imagine her at Jader! I need Riordan. Joy will probably kiss my ass halfway there if I get Pony out of his hair." The silence between them grew and filled with Carel's cries. Eventually Roland looked over at the other man. Duncan was still staring straight ahead, his face shuttered as it tended to be these days. There was a pang of loss but Roland shrugged it off.

Eventually Duncan said, "Is that fair? Riordan has a woman here." His voice was as expressionless as his face.

"Yeah, fancy he never mentioned that." Roland kept regarding Duncan. "Look, I don't know and I don't _WANT_ to know how you two fucked up or how Alyse fits in the picture. It's beyond me, but Pony is clearly miserable. I love him as a brother, my family loves him. He will be one of us. Don't you think this might be the best solution, for everyone?" He caught Duncan's hand as it began to tug at another strap. The only sign of the turmoil Roland was almost sure haunted the other man these days. "Look at you. Are you happy? Is he happy? Is Alyse?"

"But..."

"No bloody buts. Pony can turn me down if he's got the mind to but I take no buts from you. The time for buts is gone, understand?"

"_YOU_ don't understand. There's..."

"I understand all I need!"

Duncan's jaw muscles worked. "Now you're the one drawing attention, you want us to end up dangling by the post too?" he muttered.

"That would only be me though, wouldn't it?" It was a low blow and Roland knew it as soon as he spoke. As both of them turned to watch Carel he had the strongest feeling of having kicked someone already down.

"Hey Roland," shouted one of the Warden's behind him, "one silver says Carel won't last twenty lashes."

Relieved he turned his attention elsewhere. "Done!"

"You want in Guilbert?" the Warden continued, "or are you still pining too much for that little piece of Dwarf totty?"

Guilbert's face turned an impressive beet red as he snarled with uncharacteristic belligerence, "You shut your mouth or I'll do it for you!"

"Whoa, no offence. She'll be home safe and sound soon no doubt." The man brightened. "Hey, that's an even better bet. Pony brings them all back alive. Odds?" As the comments began to rain the last lash fell on Carel's jerking back. He still stood, clinging to the post. In the corner of his eye Roland watched Duncan melt away in the crowd.

"Maurice is too lazy to travel back."

"Maurice is too lazy to die!"

"Great, anyone else? Riordan's better at bringing his pack back these days."

Roland held out his hand to collect his winnings. "If he stays sober."

"There's that certainly."

-ooo-

"Balls!" Jade put the bleeding thumb in her mouth. Daydreaming about Guilbert whilst chopping Glowworms would cost her more than a few drops of blood if she wasn't careful. The Warden quarters in Orzammar were usually better stocked with potions and salves but some lazy asses must have been here recently. Bah, she didn't trust these human concoctions anyway. Nothing beat Glowworm paste when it came to foul wounds. Someone could have made a fortune out of it if it hadn't been for the need for smoking fresh ingredients and the weird blue glow that surrounded any scarring.

Peering into the wriggling bag she wondered if she might need more. Bloody Maurice had scampered at the first whiff of work. That guy from the Val, Simon, was nice but talked her ear off so she'd sent him to the Shaperate to find out if there was any truth to the rumours that the Legion was pushed back even further in the Roads and if so, how far. She hoped the lie that Dwarves were famous for their erotica would keep him out of her hair for the rest of the day.

Nursing her thumb she cast an angry eye at Riordan. Predictably he was draped over the desk. Small wonder if that jug was genuine Stalkers Spit. Initially he'd made half arsed attempts at reporting but yesterday he'd mostly balled the parchments up before feeding them to the lava. Today, all drink.

Vittorio's excuses to send them off into the Roads got more pathetic every time. Only a blind idiot would fail to see he was drooling over Duncan like a Duster over a roast Nug and was getting rid of competition. Not that there was much of that these days although gossip would have Jade believe Alyse had caught Riordan in Duncan's bed. She'd secretly rejoiced when she heard it. But the rumour was probably too sodding good to be true.

Alyse was ok, she guessed, polite in a distant sort of way. A real looker but even so, why Alyse at all? It always struck Jade that Riordan had seemed happier not fucking Duncan than he was fucking Alyse. Stupid humans! Their stature made it too difficult for the blood to reach their brains. That was their problem. _HER_ problem was here and now.

Riordan had opened a wound on the first day of travel and proceeded to ignore it. As far as Jade could tell he had been running a fever for at least three days. Topside she relied on three people and one of them currently didn't seem to care if he lived or died. With a sigh she padded over and lifted his tunic; sure as fuck, she would need more paste.

Grumbling to herself she opened the valve to let a bit more lava into the stove before doggedly continuing the preparations. The chopping board was glowing faintly blue now. Hopefully it could be washed out. If Guilbert had been here he would have chastised her ever so gently. They would occasionally cook together at the compound. He was much better at it than her but she couldn't care less as long as she could stand behind him and run her hands over his flanks pretending she listened to his instructions. If he saw through that, which he probably did, he made no mention.

She had never met a man like him. Initially it had been her instinct to find a protector. Riordan and Duncan were fine men but there wasn't enough space for a Nug-flea between them even if they didn't recognize it themselves. Guilbert was different. He seemed all softness and warmth. Then suddenly there would be just a glint of steel in his eyes and his mouth would go all determined, which made Jade warm and tongue tied.

He'd been in The Val for almost four months now and never had he failed to send a message when there were couriers. With some reluctance she had asked Riordan to read them to her. The words sounded better when read by a man. He could be a bit of an asshole, repeating the most embarrassing endearments, but he always finished by telling her Guilbert would be an idiot if he let her go. She wasn't fool enough to trust him with writing replies though, Clarice was perfect for that, nice words an' all.

Jade liked the Mage better than the rest of them other girls put together. Beatris especially got on her tits after that careless comment about what a dream job it must be to be a whore and get paid for fucking. Only Guilbert's presence had prevented Jade from tearing the bitch a new one. For a hardened Warden he was amazingly sensitive at times. Guilbert, with his strong hands and lean back... Paragon piss and shit!

Finally satisfied with the paste, Jade stomped into the room she shared with Riordan and replaced the sweat stained sheets on his pallet with fresh. They shared room since she sure wasn't bedding down with Maurice. A decision she had almost come to regret after a few nights listening to Riordan's feverish tossing and ramblings.

After a deep breath and a swig of the Stalker's, Jade shook his shoulder violently. Not unexpectedly he cursed her and settled in again. She changed her grip and shook harder. "Get your ass moving! I'm going home in one piece and I don't fucking trust the other two to get it done."

She managed to steer him into the washroom and opened the sluice for the hot water. "Clean up and none of your shit 'cause I'm going to heal that wound even if it kills you!" With that parting threat she tossed a pair of clean trousers at the swaying man and slammed the door.

When she decided she had waited enough she slipped inside. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it all before. As suspected Riordan had done a pretty shitty job except for somehow managing to break the only topside oil, the one scented with the small blueish flowers, that she'd reserved for herself. The scent of it filled the room. Groaning and cursing she eventually succeed in tipping him into the water and picked up the soap. "It's not a mortal sin to admit you need help you know."

The wound was worse than she had imagined and the smell of pus as she squeezed it almost made her gag. Except for a few grunts and sharp inhales the man made hardly a sound. When done she straightened her back with a grunt of her own before pulling aside the curtain of wet hair to get a glimpse of his face. It was alarmingly pale. "Hey handsome, how are we holding up?"

"Don't bother, I use my coins on drink these days," By the way his head snapped aside she knew he hadn't expected her right hook. Glaring at him she massaged her stinging hand.

"Do you have any idea how much you hurt me right now?"

"No. I'm sorry" She itched to slap him again but watching the confident, seemingly indestructible man with the shrugs and the easy laughs she remembered from her first topside journey reduced to this, almost broke her heart.

"You're off the hook, for now." She poured some more water over his back before reaching for the bowl. "Why do you even say things like that?"

"I don't know." The words were barely audible.

"That's usually a sign to keep your trap shut, isn't it?" She took a good dollop of the paste on her fingers. "You might want to brace yourself now." He did good, she had seen tough men pass out. Glowing blue whorls dispersed in the bath water when she rinsed her hands. "Done. Can you walk?"

"I'm sure you're going to make me either way."

When Riordan finally collapsed onto the pallet they were both panting as if they'd tried to out-run Shrieks. Jade drew the blanket up to his waist and offered him some water which he declined with a shake of the head. Jade sat down on the edge of the mattress and drank some herself. "I'm sorry I hit you."

To her relief there was a twitch to the corner of his mouth. "No you're not."

She tugged a tress of his hair before smoothing it back. "Now you're beginning to look like yourself."

"And who is that?"

"Sky of course." That got a snort that almost could have been a laugh from the man. To her surprise he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. The gesture reminded her. "Do you know what it's like to have something really important you know you should say, and then you don't because you are too frightened? Then it feels kind of stupid and even more terrifying and finally you know you have to, no matter what. It's just that important."

"Two bottles of that lavender stuff if you shut up."

"Make it three."

"Done." There was a pause when she thought he had fallen asleep. When the murmur came it was barely audible and slurred with sleep. "Tell Guilbert he's an idiot if he lets you go."

-ooo-

Jade burrowed down in the blankets with a satisfied sigh. She had fleeced her fellow Wardens thoroughly in Diamonback and the last time she checked in on Riordan the fever had broken. You could always count on the wormies. Sure, there had been a faint glow to the wound but if the man could live with that ugly winged-thing-tattoo, he couldn't worry overmuch about aesthetics. She felt smug as a Nug that's managed to save one of her litter. It would take some time to get him back to form but the drawings in the texts Simon had liberated from the Chaperate would keep her more than entertained. Seriously, who would have thought?


	70. The dirty laundry

"I'm sorry! I'm so terribly sorry!" Desperately Amaury poured healing from his hands to cover Roland's arm with healthy skin. The stench of burning hair and roasting meat stung his nose.

"You had to do one thing, ONE simple thing! Follow the fucking plan!" The man gestured with his good arm like he itched to slap him. Amaury wondered how that would feel.

"I know, I just thought…"

"GAH! You never think!" With a noise of disgust Roland withdrew his arm to inspect it himself. Before he noticed, Amaury discreetly regrew some of the hair that had been singed away at the back of the man's head . It was difficult stuff but he got it almost right. Sancha shook her head. She was smiling though.

The woman reached out to pat Roland on his healthy arm. "About time you took a beating big guy, a lesson in mortality is never wasted."

"The fuck do you know! That's the last time I cover up for lover boy when he can't wait to get his jollies."

Chuckling Sancha passed a canteen. "You were just the same if I remember correctly, and I do." She rose to fetch more water. Amaury had to stop himself from checking if Riordan had somehow appeared by the well. "What was that story about the milk maid again?" she called over the shoulder. "From what I heard the cows were so traumatized the milk was sour for a week."

Roland began to strip off the rest of his armour. "I'm a married man," he growled. The under padding still smoked a bit around the edges, making Amaury cringe.

"And a grouchy one." Despite the levity in her voice, Sancha's eyes were suddenly serious. "Not looking forward to Jader?"

"No one in their right mind would," was the sour answer.

Amaury had heard the rumour but hoped it wasn't true. "You and Riordan are leaving, I mean, like truly leaving?"

"I'M leaving, I doubt Pony is." With a heavy sigh Roland leant back against the wall, rubbing sweat from his face. Now that was good news, he was usually right about these things.

"Could I come too? If I wanted that is."

Roland opened one eye and gave Amaury a dirty sideways look. "Don't you think they have enough crazy over there?" Apparently he wasn't forgiven yet. Anxiety crawled like worms in his stomach.

"I don't like this. We've been together for so long. I will miss you."

Gingerly Roland fingered his newly healed skin. "I'll miss you too, but remembering this will go a long way towards easing the hurt, believe me."

Sancha reached out and patted Amaury on the cheek. "Things change. I'm the only one left of my group now."

Roland frowned. "So Jehan is gone?"

"Had his calling early. We never know, do we?"

"True. Only thing set in stone is that bloody Maurice will still be around after all of us are gone, forever dodging duty." With a shove Roland woke the sleeping man. "Finding sweat on Maurice would be like finding Andraste's fucking ashes."

Maurice opened one eye in protest. "Now you've gone and disturbed me!" he complained, "Here I was, quietly fantasizing about Junior's luscious dwarf. Damn she's hot! Caught a glimpse of her naked a few times. Almost made the journey worthwhile."

The next bout was finished and as the Wardens headed for the well, Amaury rose to see if anyone needed healing. They all politely declined, even the one with the broken thumb. Ah, well, there were always the traditionalists.

Silently he trailed after Roland and Sancha. He really liked Riordan so knowing he would stay was good news. It seemed Guilbert had been right. Of course Riordan wouldn't leave his woman behind. Although until now Amaury hadn't been nearly as certain as Guilbert. But what did Amaury know about these things? Apparently nothing, according to that nice shop assistant he'd bedded a few times to clear his head for important things. What did she mean by a real man anyway? Questions within questions...

"I'm not exactly a romantic," Sancha suddenly butted in on his musings, "but seeing Guilbert and Jade today almost made me wish I was." With a wistful sigh she continued, "There's something beautiful about lovers reuniting."

There was a loud crash as a jug shattered a window on the second floor. It broke against the ground in a shower of glass splinters. Roland scowled at it then sighed, "Yeah, seems Riordan is doing his best as well."

-ooo-

"You knew the moment I said it!"

Alyse sank down against the wall without a word. Her hand throbbed painfully. Andraste save her but she had! _'I'm your fucking brother!'_ Riordan's angry statement had slotted into place with terrifying logic, like the last piece of a jigsaw she never knew she'd been laying. Curse Duncan, curse him to the Black City and back! She'd trusted him and he'd stabbed her in the back. _'Let me talk to Riordan. Please don't thank me Alyse.' _She'd thought he was being kind, the lying son of a bitch! What little detail had his insidious mind found in her past that lead him to this?

Riordan's eyes sought hers but she refused to meet them. "Yes," she whispered . Shame battled so many other feelings she couldn't even identify them.

"Maker's balls Alyse, why didn't you tell me?" There was despair and anguish in his voice as he paced the room like a trapped animal. On his face was a look of someone mortally ill. He deserved it she reckoned.

Had there been anything else within reach she could lift, she would have thrown it at him. Instead she hugged herself. "When did you ever want to hear anything about me? The past is the past you always said."

He sank down heavily across the room, like a mirror image of her, digging his fingers into his scalp. _'She remembers someone smaller than mother carrying her quickly up curving steps. He's afraid, which makes her frightened too. She buries her face against his neck and pretends it's a game.'_ Brother, lover… The ideas clashed with a violence that made her feel sick. Sweet Maker...

When Riordan finally spoke his voice was eerily calm, almost conversational. "You take after your father."

Pulling her knees harder to her chest Alyse answered as calmly, "That's what they always said." She raised her eyes and met his. "You take after mother." It was kind of obvious now. Alyse had envied her her pale, almost translucent skin and glossy black hair, so fine compared to Alyse's dusky complexion and wild brown mane. Even the curve of Riordan's mouth was a bloody copy of mother's. The thought made Alyse feel like she was tethering on the edge of an abyss.

"I wouldn't know." He used the back of his hand in a feeble attempt to wipe away the blood trickling from his nose, their blood. There was a silence neither of them knew how to break until Alyse had to. That or go mad.

"When I was a child, did you love me?"

He dabbed at his nose again. "Not a chance. You stole the last of our mother's affection from me. But try as might I couldn't hate you. You were a sunny child. I fully understood why mother choose you." The absolute lack of emotion in Riordan's voice told her all she needed to know.

"Perhaps she had no choice."

There was a snort. "When you flee a nest of vipers you don't take one with you."

She already knew but she had to ask. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Your father had a tattoo in the form of a circle on his right hand. I saw it every time he instructed me at archery. The day before you left he gave me a bow. I didn't understand why he looked so sad; he was normally full of laughter. I was afraid I hadn't thanked him properly. It was a beautiful bow. Tossed it into the fire when I finally realised."

'_Candles flicker and dance all around her. The air stinks of cheap tallow and burned flesh. Already she knows it will haunt her forever. Father's soot blackened hand is the only thing visible from beneath the stained sheets covering the bodies. Any hope that the entire village could be wrong is destroyed by the little circular tattoo visible beneath the grime. If she removes the sheets, the sight of what they hide will obliterate every happy memory of mother and father alive that she has.'_ "We have to kill them."

"It's done."

At that she tensed, looking sharply at Riordan who was staring at something only he could see. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat like vomit. She swallowed it down. How could they claim to know each other at all? "Did they suffer?"

"Not as much as they deserved, it was only me and Duncan and we were hard pressed." Even know she was unable to stop the pang of jealousy. Duncan again! Looking into Riordan's unforgiving pale-grey eyes she recognised that same capacity for violence she'd seen proof of when she removed those sheets.

"I would have liked to watch them die."

"It wasn't as good as I had imagined, but not bad, not bad at all." Again he seemed to withdraw to that place where she wasn't even a memory. A roar of laughter from outside stirred the thickening silence. It was followed by more as somebody shouted angrily. In the corridor outside the room a door shut. Alyse's eyes settled on a fly that had flown in through the broken window, perhaps carried on the same breeze that brought with it the smell of cooking from the mess. It was bouncing against a jagged bit of glass and couldn't find the gaping hole left by the jug.

Riordan's voice drew her attention. He had risen and was holding out his hand, she took it. "For what it's worth I'm sorry."

She straightened her clothing and raised her chin. "For what it's worth I'm sorry too." She headed for the door. "I need some time."

He opened it but halted her by touching her elbow. "Earlier you told me there was something you wanted to say."

Almost forcibly Alyse stopped her hand from going to her abdomen. "Never mind, it's not important anymore."

* * *

><p>Co-written with Gaspode5. Readers, thank you for your patience. Extra love for Shakespira and FenZev.<p>

Disclaimers: The usual


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